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Harboh Hamilton, Bermuda 




STOLEN AMERICA 


BY 

ISOBEL HENDERSON FLOYD 


Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 

This is my own, my native land ? ” 



NEW YORK 

CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

104 & 106 Fourth Avenue 



Copyright, 

1890, 

By O. M. DUNHAM. 


\ All rights reserved. 










LOVINGLY INSCRIBED 
vTO 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, MY FATHER, 

PETER HENDERSON. 




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I 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


CHAPTER I. 

A WOMAN, a handsome woman of about thirty-five, sat 
on a huge block of white stone in one of the quarries 
about half a mile from the Princess Hotel, Bermuda, She 
was fashionably, daintily dressed, booted and gloved with 
care, a finished picture of modern life. Occasionally over 
the fair face came scowls of impatience, and the large hazel- 
green eyes flashed angrily, and then deepened with earnest 
thought. She sat in a sort of enclosure, sheltered from the 
road, so that she had to use her ears, and not her eyes, to 
find out when any one was drawing near. 

Ten minutes went by — fifteen — and all was silence, save 
for the song of the birds that swept along over her head in 
happy freedom. She took out her dainty watch and then 
ground her white teeth together as she saw the hour. Unable 
at length to sit quiet any longer, she left the quarry and 
went out into the road. Ah yes! there, down the white 
stretch of lane, coming along at a fast, short-stepped pace, 
like that of a fast-trotting horse, was a man, jauntily swinging 
a cane. She glanced up and down the road to see that no 
one else was in sight, then doggedly awaited his coming. 
He saw her standing, and hurried still faster. 

“Ah, ma belle, Louise!” he panted, as he came near, “it 
was not possee-ble that you are kept awaiting me? Mille 
pardons! I could not help it! c’est vrai!” shrugging 
his shoulders until his neck was lost to sight. “I cannot 
tell you, ma belle, how I am deso-lated that I should 
you de-tain.” 

“When I said three o’clock, I meant three — and not half 
an hour later — ” said the woman haughtily. “Why were 
you not on time?” 


I 


2 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“Why not? Pardon me just one leetle moment, ma 
chere?” taking a handsome cigarette case out of his 
pocket. “With your sweet pair-mission — I vill solace 
myself for your anger,” striking a match on the sole of 
his boot. 

“You will not!” said his companion, suddenly knocking 
the match out of his hand. “I have no wish that we shall 
be discovered. Come in here with me, behind this quarry — 
I have something to say to you.” 

“Ah? So?” attentively regarding the flickering match 
in the roadside, “this is my new Louise? The one of olden 
time — vas — let us say — kinder? But as you will, ma belle — 
lead on — I vollow you.” Without giving him a word of 
reply, the woman led the way back into the stone quarry 
she had so recently quitted. “Ah!” said the Frenchman, 
looking around, “it is very curious here — Mignon. Ees this 
your marble palace? It is very unique — it ees superbe, but 
not yet quite completed, hey?” 

“I am in no humor for joking,’’ said his companion 
shortly. ‘ T have asked you to meet me here — for a purpose.” 

“Ah! ma plus chere! Qu’avez-vous?” 

“Talk English,” said the woman testily; “you can when 
you want to.” 

“Mais! You are not in ze sunny humair dis mornin! 
Qu’avez-vous?” attempting to stroke her hand. She drew 
it away as if from fire. 

“Don’t you dare touch me!” she blazed. 

“So?” seating himself on one of the big white blocks of 
stone, and looking at her coolly. “Vy not, ma Louise? 
Who has a bettair right?” 

She colored red over brow and neck, but with anger, not 
shame, as she answered, “one other — had a better right — 
but he is dead. Has been dead now ten years. Now I 
belong to no man, I am my own mistress!” 

“You are a leetle older — but I think even more adorable, ’ * 
said the man, admiringly. 

“Will you listen to me?” she said fiercely. 

“Lee-sten to? to you? Mais oui, — always, always! It 
ees music in my ears, your sweet voice.” 

Biting her lips hard, and then opening them — she spoke : 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 3 

“ When I saw you come off that steamer yesterday, I thought 
I was mad; they had told me you were dead.” 

“Whom the gods love^ die young, it ees said — I fear, ma 
chere Louise, that I am not beloved by them — see?” (hold- 
ing out a brown, muscular hand). “That does not look like 
the early grave — now does it?” 

‘‘And when,” went on the woman, paying no attention 
to this interruption, “and when I saw your cruel, diabolical 
face — smiling as only you can — I knew they had been mis- 
taken — and that you were yet alive — to torture me!” 

‘‘Oh, ma belle, you air so graphique in your deescripions ! 
Pardon — do not let me interrupt you.” 

“And after thinking, lying awake and thinking it over all 
night, I came to the conclusion to see you, and speak to you 
alone — and tell you what I would do — and what you must do.” 

“Ah? So?” taking out a silk handkerchief and carefully 
dusting his shoes. ‘ ‘And what will you do — first — ma chere, 
ma belle, Louise?” 

“After I felt you in Paris,” she hurried on, “I came to 
America. I went into a mill in a town in Massachusetts, 
and lived a good, quiet life for over a year. Then — then — 
one day — one of the big customers, a wealthy man — took a 
fancy to me because of my face, — and in the course of time — 
I married him.” 

“Von moment — ma belle — did you take the trouble to 
tell him of a little previous engagement of yours? Of a leetle 
ceremonie — pairformed in Paris five years before?” 

“No — !” defiantly. “I did not. Why should I? I was a 
child when you married me — you wretch ! and I thought you 
were dead. Now, what I want to say to you is this. I am 
no wife of yours, Leon Duquette! I am Mrs. Gascoigne, the 
widow of a respectable American gentleman — and I — I will — 
will — I have some money — I will pay you — well — to take the 
next steamer back to New York and from there back to 
France.” 

“Oo-oh!” pursing up his lips in mock surprise. “So 
that ees it — hey? I am not to claim the wife of my bosom — 
nor even — see — her — angel face? Can you tink dat for one 
leetle moment I vill leesten to dat, Louise? Can you tink 
dat after de veary search I make for her, that I lose de star of 


4 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


my eggsistence? Mais non — non — ma chore! Non — 

jamais!” 

“You must leave here at once,” said the woman tensely. 

“Ah!” repinning a cactus blossom in his button-hole, 
that had become unfastened, “Ah! that ees such a hard 
vord to use to me — ma Louise.” 

“How much will you take to go back Tuesday on the 
Orinoco?” 

“Notting!” he said, softly smiling. 

“How much? One Hundred Pounds?” 

“Mais non! Notting!” still smiling. 

“Five Hundred Pounds? 

“How can you ask eet? Vous savez que je vous aime. ” 

“I know that you love money — how much, I ask you?” 

“Notting! I vill not evair desert you ! ” 

“One Thousand Pounds — if you will go on Tuesday.” 
She was growing pale, and was stamping the white sand saw- 
dust under her feet. 

“Sacre Bleu! But Monsieur Gascoigne, your late hus- 
band, must have been reech ! No — not von penny vill I take 
in place of my own true love.” 

“Then listen to me — if you do not — I will denounce you 
to the English authorities here — for — you Jmow what ! 

“But — ma chere — we are not in ze England now — we are 
in Am^rique!” 

“No we are not — this is owned by the English — and I 
mean just what I say.” 

For a moment the man was silenced — then smiling again 
he said, “Pardon — just von leetle question — ma belle; had 
your late— Monsieur Gascoigne any relatives? Oui, or 
non?” 

“Yes — he had two sisters — they are in Boston; why do 
you ask that?” 

“Oh, notting! notting! only — eef de adorable Louise 
make menscion of de fact of any leetle irregularities of mine 
to de Gouvernair here — I make menscion of the fact von 
leetle ceremonie pairformed at Paris, before she marry the 
reech brothair of these two sisters? Comprenez — vous? 
ma belle? does you tink dat they vill still be villing dat all 
dis fortune go to his beloved vife — Mine. Louise Gas- 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


5 


coigne — or do you tink dat perhaps dey vill say, ‘Vy should 
Mme. Leon Duquette have the money that rightfully 
belongs to us?’ Now — ma chere Louise — vot do you tink?” 

The woman sank down on one of the white blocks faint 
and vanquished. Duquette watched her smiling. “Always 
graceful,” he muttered, “in de tragedy as in de comedy of 
life. Come ma belie — lose not your heart, look up at me 
for von moment. I mean you no harm. In fact, I mean 
you veil. Leesten to me. Eef you vill not interfere in 
my plans — I vill not trouble yours.” 

She raised her head and looked at him, “What do you 
mean?” 

“Just vat I say, eef you vill not interfere vif my plans I 
vill not vif yours. Eef it please ma adorable Louise que 
le monde know not dat she ees my vife — bah !” shrugging his 
shoulders, “they shall not hear la petite histoire from me. 
Eef in turn ma belle, vous ferai ce que je desire — dat is shut 
your starry eyes to my leetle pass-times, and open not your 
ruby lips against me — I swear I vill nevair trouble — the 
honorable Mme. Gascoigne — vealthy vidow of de American 
gentilhomme — except — pair-haps, for a leetle money ven de 
luck goes hard. Ees it a bargain, ma Louise?” 

She stood up tall, graceful, beautiful — and her eyes were 
indeed star-like, as she said contemptuously — “I accept the 
bargain — for I know you will keep it — and I cannot afford 
to have the pleasure of your acquaintance here — and just 
now.” 

“Mille remerciments!” bowing in derision, “you know 
ma belle that you can trust my honair!” laying his hand 
on his heart and bowing again. 

“I know that I can trust your self interest — Yes — ” musing 
a moment. “It is a bargain. You are not to know me 
until some chance introduces us to each other and then you 
are not to seek me out. You understand — nor annoy me 
with your presence.” 

“Mais — vous etes cruelle! Not to be near ma belle 
Louise, but as a strangaire — when she is the sun of my life! 
Louise — ” stopping short and speaking fiercely, “Eef you 
betray me — leesten — I vill kill you — sol” crushing a piece 
of the soft coral sand in his hand. 


6 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


The woman shivered — and then — looking squarely into 
his gleaming black eyes, said — “Leon Duquette, I hate you!” 

“Ah!” laughing harshly — “So? but you like an angel 
ven you hate, ma belle — I kiss your hand in adoration — I 
worship ma beloved, I kneel at your veet! Dat is — in 
imaginah-scion — ^mon ange ! Dis fine soft dust-carpet vould 
ruin de knees of my trousers eef I followed mine ardent 
inclination ! ’ ’ 

“It is understood then?” said Mrs. Gascoigne proudly, 
“you will not dare claim acquaintance with me — and we are 
through with each other?” 

“Oui, ma belle — C’est vrai! You vill hav eet so — I live to 
pair-form your slightest vish. Adieu, ma belle Louise, 
adieu ! ” 

Without another word, the fair woman daintily drew aside 
her skirts and wound her way around the piles of stone — 
toward the roadside. 

“Von moment, ma belle! ! I forgot to tell you von leetle 
fact. Like you I have change my name. I am the Count 
Louis Saviotti — a votre service.” 

Duquette stood, hat in hand, a triumphant cynical smile 
upon his face, until she was out of view, but she never turned 
once nor looked back. 

Left alone in the quarry, he Dughed and whistled a tune 
from some opera, and then stood some time alone meditating. 
Frowns chased each other over his face, succeeded by smiles 
that were as ugly as his heart was evil. 


CHAPTER II. 

The steamer Orinoco from New York was nearing the 
Bermudas. On board was the usual crowd of well-to- 
do Americans in search of health — or, because they were 
Americans, a change. Among the number was John Wes- 
ton, Esq., sad-eyed and weary, a martyr to what his money 
had brought him. 

It was night, and the wind was blowing a vicious gale, 
banging sails about with roistering recklessness, and causing 
the good old ship to shriek its protests at every blow. Stag- 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


1 


gering up on the deck, holding on by railings and banisters, 
came Mr. Weston, his iron-gray beard half hid under a 
muffler, his coat buttoned up tight, and his steamer hat well 
down over his ears. He wasn’t feeling amiable — he had not 
wanted to come to Bermuda, he had been perfectly content 
in his office in Wall Street, and happy in his work; — but he 
had a wife and daughter. The first had made the discovery 
that “Bermuda” was the place to go to in the winter — “to 
rest, you know,” and the second, being a minor, couldn’t 
vote — and so had to go where the law decided. 

At that moment he had the grim satisfaction of knowing 
that his wife was paying toll pretty heavily in their cabin 
below-stairs, and at that his was their second night out. 

Ashe reeled along — balancing himself as best he might — 
the ship gave an unusually bad lurch and sent him full length 
upon the deck. 

When he tried to get up, a friendly hand was stretched out 
to him in the darkness, and a deep base voice said with a 
chuckle — “Good evening! You’ve not quite got your sea- 
legs on yet, I see, Mr. Weston!” 

“No — confound it! Oh — iCsyou Captain — excuse me — 
but you’re an old salt, you know — and I’m not. Pretty bad 
night this, isn’t it?” 

“Oh no,” said the Captain, with that cheerful indifference 
to hurricanes that only mer-men of his stamp can have. 
“Not so bad — not so bad.” 

Just then .another lurch of the ship was emphasized most 
emphatically by a terrific crash of crockery in the dining- 
room. “Lord! what’s that?” said Mr. Weston. 

“Only a little glass and china,” said the captain philos- 
phically. “It will happen some-time, when it’s a little rough.” 

“I don’t see how I came to tumble,” said Mr. Weston. 
“Usually I’m quite steady on my feet — that is to a certain 
extent, but to-night I’m as if half seas over.” 

“So you are,” chuckled the captain, “and more than 
that!” 

“Sir!” exclamied Mr. Weston indignantly, “I’d have 
you know that you are mistaken — I never drink anything 
but claret at my dinner.” 

“Don’t care what you had for your dinner — you are more 


8 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


than half seas over — these seas that you want to cross. We’ll 
be in by to-morrow night if we make as good time as we’re 
doing now.” 

‘‘Oh! I see. Glad to know it. I’m awful tired of this. 
Don’t see how you stand the life — ^so montonous.” 

‘‘Monotonous!” and the good captain stared at him. 
Luckily the darkness hid the contempt in his gaze, or they 
never could have been good friends after. ‘‘1 don’t think 
so,” he said. 

One of the sailors passing by just then, he turned to give 
some orders, and left the broker to his own thoughts. Mr. 
Weston managed to get to the side rail and held on to it 
firmly — enjoying the strong breeze, the salt spray that blew 
in his face, and the shifting clouds, and tossing billows. 
He had not taken a holiday in winter before for years — and 
was not satisfied over it now, but in spite of himself, the 
novelty of his position after the days and months of accounts 
and ‘‘stocks” interested him and pleased him. ‘‘I’m an old 
fool to have come,” he growled to himself, ‘‘but as long as 
I’m here, I’ll have all there is in it.” He stayed upon 
deck — all alone save for the ship’s hands — until late that 
night, the only one of the Orinoco’s passengers who had 
any desire to leave his state-room. 

Late the next afternoon, the scene on deck was a curious 
contrast to that of the night before. There was confusion 
and chatter — people gathering their bags and shawl-straps 
together, telling how “strange it was that they should get 
sea-sick,” etc., etc. Then when the pilot-boat was finally 
hailed and the giant-like negro jumped aboard and took pos- 
session like a pirate chief — how he was stared at! And 
how, as the narrow strip of land in the distance grew nearer 
and nearer — how the sad hearts went up with a bound, how 
brave every one looked, — how good-natured everybody felt ! 

Among the number, resting gracefully back in a steamer- 
chair, was a very picturesque looking lady. One of those 
white-haired, fair-skinned, cameo-like people who attract 
attention at once. And yet, such is the mystery of the 
outside of us, this dreamy, lovely, beautiful-looking woman, 
was a sort of case for a very commonplace soul. Not a bad 
sort of soul at all — but a woman who suggested the grand 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


9 


and noble in humanity, while her only grandeur lay in the 
expensive steamer-rug that was stretched out over her 
knees. 

This was Mrs. Weston. Downstairs in one of the state- 
rooms, busy packing a satchel and getting little feminine 
belongings together, was her daughter, Kate. She had not 
her mother’s poise of head, nor her dainty, regular features. 
Her face was colorless, save for her lips, and dark lashes over 
gray eyes. A black and brown sort of hair, but not lifeless. 
Everything about this girl had a charm of its own. Rising 
up from the bag that she was packing, she glanced out 
through the port-hole of the state-room, and caught a glimpse 
of the marvelous blue water. “Oh!” she cried, springing 
up or. the sofa, so as to get a better view. She stood there 
alone, feasting her eyes upon the beautiful dark-green 
shores, and the sunny, crystal blue waves through which 
the steamer was gliding. A feeling of intense delight filled 
her; that sudden sense of joy, that is as different from mere 
cool admiration as daylight is from night. Long she stood 
there, enraptured as a lover. Presently the stewardess 
of the ship appeared in the doorway and said, 

“Miss Weston, your mother says please to hurry and 
come upstairs; we’ll soon be in now.” 

“I’ll be there in a moment,” exclaimed the girl, jump- 
ing down at once. 

As she reached the top of the stairway a boyish voice 
called out cheerily, “Hello, Kate ! Good-day! Just come 
aboard?” 

“Oh, Fred!” laughed Kate back again, shaking her head 
at him, “where have you been? I thought you were going 
to take such good care of mamma and me, and were going 
to bring us baked apples and toast when we were sick? And 
here this is the first glimpse I’ve had of you since we left 
- the Narrows!” 

“Do you really want to know where I have been?” 
answered Fred Allison, solemnly. “Well then, listen. I was 
caught by the head cook, imprisoned in his room and made to 
eat all the meals that nobody else wanted. Fact, I assure 
you. He said that unless spmebody eat ’em, the captain 
would say he was no good, and pitch him overboard.” 


10 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“I say, Allison,” here broke in Mr. Weston — “don’t you 
ever talk sense?” 

“Not usually, ” answered Allison, gravely ! “My friends 
don’t like it— it alarms them. It happened once, and they 
thought I was going to die, and had two doctors over me 
before I realized what they were about.” 

‘ ‘Well, I never ! ’ ’ ejaculated the older man, in mild amaze- 
ment at this specimen of glibness. “You beat me, young 
man — you sort of make my head swim.” And turning 
around he good-naturedly strolled away, thinking that 
young folks liked to be by themselves. 

“Fred,” said Kate smiling, “Were you ever sea-sick?” 

“Well — yes — I was.” The comical twist of Allison’s 
face as he said the words was suggestive. “But what’s the 
odds now?” he rattled on cheerfully. “It’s all over — as 
the man said when he kissed his mother-in-law. Oh — cer- 
tainly, I’ll find Mrs. Weston for you, I think she’s over on 
the other side somewhere.” Allison led the way through 
the throngs of people, using his tongue and his elbows with 
equal persuasiveness until they came to where Mrs. Weston, 
reclining gracefully back in her chair, was the center of an 
admiring group. 

Mrs. Weston always reclined. She seemed, as she lay 
there luxuriantly, to be on abed of rose leaves, the tangible 
personification of ease, the poetry of bodily existence. She 
had on an ulster, a round hat, and in no way did her dress 
differ materially from those about her, and yet the gray in 
her coat seemed soft and gentle, and the black and silver 
wing in her hat lingered in the memory of those about her 
with a persistence absurdly beyond the worth of the thing 
itself. She always held a levee when among strangers. 
But her beauty after a while palled upon those who saw 
her frequently. 

“I say, Mrs. Weston,” said Allison buoyantly, “ did you 
ever see anything to beat this ? Look at that water — it’s 
as blue as your eyes.” 

“Do you think so ? ” smiled Kate’s mother complacently. 

“I wonder what these trees are,” said Kate, her eyes 
shining with delight as she gazed at the dark-edged shores 
the steamer was gliding by. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


II 


“ Cedar,” explained Fred eagerly. “I read-np all about 
it before I started. At Keast 1 think so, but I read such a 
lot of stuff about palms and bananas and Pride of India 
trees — that I’m a little mixed. Think those are the cedars 
though. By-the-vvay we’ll have a chance to see Mark 
Twain’s famous rubber tree — where overshoes and rubber 
rings for babies, and rubber boots hang down like fruit, 
you know.” 

“ Really, now,” said Mrs. Weston, “ all ready made ? ” 

“Yes,” said Allison soberly, “ and on the top branch of 
all is the bargain-counter for ladies gossamers, only it’s 
rather steep getting up there.” 

“Oh, pshaw,” pouted Mrs. Weston, as Kate’s clear laugh 
rang out ; “you ought to be ashamed, Fred, to tell me such 
stories. How can I ever believe anything you say ? ” 

“ Well, if you didn’t look so lovely,” answered Allison, 
boldly, “ my head wouldn’t be so turned — I would be differ- 
ent.’’ 

“ How foolish you are ! ” smiled Mrs. Weston pleasantly. 

Young Fred Allison was the son of an old neighbor who 
lived in New York, and whose time was chiefly occupied in 
spending the money that his father had accumulated by 
hard work. Don’t blame him, nor think he was a dissi- 
pated young fool. He was not ; he had his father’s active 
temperament and his generous heart, but he was what 
his life and training had made him. A spender of money 
and not a gatherer of it. Who shall say that he did no 
good ? The amount of attention that young man had 
bestowed upon Mrs. Weston for the sake of her daughter 
was something wonderful. Not that it was such hard work, 
for Mrs. Weston, with calm complacency, took all his atten- 
tions as an evidence of the power of her own beauty still. 

The Bermudas are a group of islands of lime-stone forma- 
tion, coral reefs, stretching away out underneath the water 
from the main lands, rendering navigation very dangerous. 
The harbor leading into the town of Hamilton is a wonder 
in itself. The marvelous transparency of the water, like a 
huge magnifying glass, reveals the bed of the channel and 
shows the hills and dales below you. The numberless 
small islands that ships pass and graze so close to, that it 


12 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


seems as if they must founder, add to the picturesque beauty 
of the scene. 

“ I feel,” said Kate dreamily, as leaving her mother she 
leaned over the side of the -taffrail looking down, “ I feel as 
if I were on a phantom ship, sailing over the top of an ether 
sea, and as if all the beauty was made for the gods, and not 
for men.” 

Allison looked at her face, and for once was silent, 

“ I say, Kate, my dear,” said her father, coming by, “did 
you see the batteries over on the other side ? ” 

“No.” 

“Why, come right along — they are worth looking at. 
Made of stone and to last, I tell you. These English 
know a thing or two. Must have cost a pretty penny to 
build such stone as that. There : look at those forts ! 
Now why don’t they have such things as that about our 
wharfs ? ” 

“ Wouldn’t do,” said Allison calmly. “ Our Jersey City 
and Brooklyn ferry-boats would all get smashed. As it is, 
they’re safe, and can make those old sticks of piles that 
have been there for ages creak and groan and take a back 
seat ; but where would they be if they knocked up against 
one of those stone walls ? No, no, sir,” he went on, 
“ We know what we are about, if we are Americans.” 

“ I don’t think we knew what we were about,” said Kate, 
“ when we let the English have this island. Why, it belongs 
to us any way, I should say. It is a bit of our continent 
broken off. It is only about 600 miles from Charleston, 
and I don’t know how many hundred of miles it is to 
England ! If I were a man I should fight to get it back 
again !” 

‘‘Well, I never!” said her father, gazing admiringly at 
her flushed face; ‘‘didn’t know you had so much grit in you 
Kate, my dear, although I always thought you were spunky 
— that is, to a certain extent.” 

Presently the custom-house officers came on board, as 
Bermuda belongs to the English Government. ‘‘We have 
to pay tribute here,” growled Mr. Weston. ‘‘Just why 
we should, let a protectionist explain. I can’t. No; I’ve 
got no nutmeg graters or apple-corers aboard” — (to one 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


13 


of the English officers who was striving to be facetious). 
“Hurry up and get through this job, will you? Here, 
perhaps this will help you” — giving him a sovereign, with 
American lavishness. The gentlemanly officer grinned, 
palmed the coin mysteriously away into an invisible pocket, 
and quietly chalked all other trunks and bags without further 
parley. “Thank you,” said Mr. Weston — “I knew you 
would.” 

The good ship Orinoco wound its way in and out around 
and over the coral rocks, just grazing an island here, and 
escaping a shallow there — with unerring sureness. The 
views on every hand are past the telling. White houses, 
like flowers among the dark-green cedars, gleamed here and 
there, great palms shot up stately and tall against a tur- 
quoise sky. Winding roads melted into the dim distance 
as if they led off into enchanted regions. Birds circled and 
caroled about the ship, flying on ahead, as if to say, “Come, 
come, we have been waiting for you,” and the almost motion- 
less, steady, onward glide of the vessel itself over the crystal 
waters seemed like the work of immortals. Even the pro- 
siest and dullest on board at times were hushed, as the un- 
thought-of-beauty of sky and land and sea burst upon them. 

But we rebound back to our ordinary selves very quickly, 
no matter what the ^notion, and, after a time, there was 
the former hub-bub and chatter and noise on deck again, 
and all was as before. The steamer passed the Princess 
Hotel, which is directly on Hamilton Harbor; its piazza 
overhanging the water, and those on board frantically 
waved hats and handkerchiefs to those on the veranda, 
although many of them knew no one in the crowd. 

A few moments after passing the Princess, the steamer 
reached Front Street, where the dock could not be used, 
owing to the shallow water, and the only means of landing 
freight or passengers was the good old way of long ago — 
beams passed from vessel to land and cross boards laid over 
them. However, that was of small consequence to the pas- 
sengers on the Orinoco. Only to get on land, was all that 
they wanted just then. There was the usual crowding to 
the side of the ship, the usual last feeing of porters and 
waiters and the usual surging ashore. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 




Mr. and Mrs. Weston had just stepped on land, and Kate 
was a little behind them, when some one, jostling against 
her, caused her hand-satchel to drop into the water. “Oh,” 
she cried, “my bag! I’ve lost it.” 

Among the crowd of negroes on shore was one, a man over 
middle age, who heard the words. A glance at her face, 
and over he jumped into the water. 

“Oh!” cried Kate, “he’ll be drowned!” 

“No danger of dat. Miss,” chuckled one of the others, 
peering over the edge at him. “He’s got it. Here, Dave, 
catch on to dis yere,” throwing him a rope carelessly. The 
man climbed up it as deftly as a monkey could have done, 
and then shaking himself a little, handed the dripping bag 
to Kate, saying politely, “Sorry it’s so wet. Miss!” 

“Oh, thank you! thank you ever so much. It was so 
good of you,” said Kate earnestly. “How can I ever 
thank you?” 

“Oh, dat’s nuffin’, Miss,” smiled the darkey back again, 
politely touching his old hat. 

“Here, my good fellow,” said her mother condescend- 
ingly, “here is something for your trouble,” holding out a 
piece of money towards him. Drawing himself up a little, 
he answered, “No, thank you, the young lady done paid 
me.” Then, turning around, he slipped away among the 
crowd. They all looked after him. 

“I didn’t see you give him anything Kate, my dear,” said 
her father. 

“Avery unmannerly fellow, I think,” said her mother, 
disapprovingly. 

“Poor man! He was dreadfully wet. I hope he won’t 
catch cold,” murmured Kate. 

“Phew!” whistled Allison, “That’s the first time I ever saw 
any of his kind refuse anything! What sort of people are 
they down here, any way, I wonder?” 

“I wouldn’t be such a fool, sah, if you had done offered 
me a shillin’,” chuckled one in the crowd, “but Dave allers 
is doin’ jess those foolish kind of things.” 

“What is his name?” said Kate, turning with interest to 
the speaker. 


5 TO LEN A A/E TIC A . 1 5 

“David Jackson, Miss,” grinned the darkey. “He keeps 
a calabash shop up that way. ’ ’ 

“What’s a calabash?” said Kate, turning to her father. 

“I don’t know,” answered her father, rather irritably, 
“and don’t care. I want to get to the hotel and be com- 
fortable. Any cabs around here?” 

There was found to be two carriages from the hotel, and 
after considerable waiting and talking and arranging, Mr. 
and Mrs. Weston, Kate and Fred Allison, and others whom 
they knew, found themselves in the parlor of the Princess 
Hotel. They chose this on account of its nearness to 
the water, although the Hamilton was an older and longer 
established house, and equally comfortable, they were told. 

After registering their names, they were shown up the 
stairway to their rooms. 

“This way, ” said Allison; “no elevator. I inquired par- 
ticularly about 'that, and they apologized and said that if 
they had only known we were coming, it should have been 
put in; but, as it is, we will have to try and put up without 
it. All the rooms are taken, too, except on the third 
floor; but yours is on the water side they say, Mrs. 
Weston.” 

When they reached their respective apartments, Fred went 
off to his at the end of the hall, while Kate and her father 
and mother had adjoining rooms facing the water. Mrs. 
Weston took olf her hat and smiled at herself in the mirror. 
“Foolish boy !” she murmured gently. “And I most old 
enough to be his mother!” 

Kate stood at the window, looking out upon the crystal- 
blue water, the opposite shore, with its snow-white houses 
here and there, and her heart thrilled at the beauty before 
her. “Oh, mamma! How beautiful it all is ! Ah me! And 
there goes a yacht like a great white-winged butterfly, spotted 
with crimson. Isn’t it like fairyland here, papa? I feel as 
if it is all a lovely dream and that I soon must wake up.” 

With leisurely steps Mrs. Weston walked to her side, and 
looking carelessly at the view, said, “Oh yes — quite pretty. 
But what are those bright-red spots on the sail-boat, Kate? 
People, do you suppose?” 

“Yes,” answered Kate, smiling sympathetically at her 


i6 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


father. “Yes, we are in the British Dominions now, you 
know. I think they are good soldiers of the Queen.” 

“Humph,” said Mr. Weston, blowing his nose vigorously, 
“they’d make good targets with that color.” 


CHAPTER III. 

EXTRACTS FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF RICHARD SINCLAIR, M.D. 

New York, June — , 1875. 

“I HAVE just had a good dinner and I feel well. It is 
this that makes me question whether there is a union of 
body and soul after all, or whether I am not all body and 
no soul. It is certainly odd that one’s spirit or soul should 
so respond to its body. Let my body be out of order, and 
how quickly all rational, normal, healthy virtues fly away ! 
It is pitiable, deplorable, and more than that, it is wonder- 
fully strange. When I stop and reflect and think out my 
conclusions and opinions, they are irrespective of matter; 
but let this same body get in my way, and I am blue, sad, 
without aim, or morbidly demanding. Let this body be at 
par, and spiritually I am all that a poor human can ask. I am 
charitable, forbearing, gentle, generous, and self-sacrificing. 
Is it then my body that is the real me after all? I am wonder- 
ing. If this be true, then the grandest charity in the world 
is that that looks after the bodies of our fellow-men. Poor, 
things, poor things! I, be I soul or only body, I ache for 
their woes, and dumb misery that is not voiced. I ache for 
their pain that has no relief.” 

Bermuda, February — , 1885. 

“Humph! Richard, my boy, how you have grown since 
you wrote the above piteous outbreak to yourself. Know 
that you are only matter, Richard — bones and nerves and 
muscles — like the beasts that perish ; and to keep as near the 
beasts as you can, is the best advice that I can give you. 
What mistaken fools are they who wake to power the higher 
properties of the mind; what cruel, blinded fools! Rather 
cultivate all that will deaden the sensibilities and affections. 
Blunt the finer perceptions, as you would a sharp-edged 
sword that might fall and cut you. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


17 


“I am succeeding pretty well. I find that alcohol, in Vari- 
ous shapes, taken to excess at times, and then again in 
moderation, is giving me what I desire. I am gradually 
gaining in flesh^nd phlegm, (both those words should begin 
with an ‘f, ’ I think), and I hope in time to have stifled 
all those annoying thoughts for the feelings of others that 
early training and tradition have so deeply engrafted in me. 
I am convined that this life is all we have. I am sure that the 
greatest amount of physical comfort and enjoyment one can 
secure to himself is all he ever is to have, and I have made 
up my mind to use all my will-power to attain the same, 
irrespective of others. 

“That’s your religion, Richard, so take care that you try 
to live up to it.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

The next day was Sunday, a right royal day of sunshine 
and blue sky. After a late breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Weston 
and Kate came out upon the piazza to look about their new 
surroundings. Young Allison had found some acquaintances 
from Baltimore, and was talking in his rapid, boyish way 
when they appeared. 

“Oh, here you are ! ’ ’ he said, radiantly. ‘ ‘ Good-morning, 
How did you sleep? Lovely, isn’t it? Let me introduce 
you to some friends of mine, Mrs. Weston. Mr. and Mrs. 
Byrd, Mr. and Mrs. Weston and Miss Kate Weston.’’ 
Dr. Sinclair, Mrs. Weston, Miss Weston.’’ The ladies 
bowed, murmuring the usual formula of being delighted to 
meet each other. 

How spendthrift we are with our words, when there is not 
one person in a thousand that ever will give us delight. 

“Is this your first visit here?’’ asked Mrs. Byrd, politely. 

“Yes,’’ said Mrs. Weston graciously, “and I thought we 
never* would get here! It was frightfully rough. Why, 
I don’t think I was ever pitched about as much in going to 
Europe.’’ 

“Wretched, wretched,’’ said Mr. Weston, shaking his 
head; “don’t see how it is they can’t manage these trips 
better.’’ 


STOLEN AMEEICA. 


i8 

“But, papa,” said Kate, “they have to cross the Gulf 
Stream, haven’t they?” 

“Oh, I suppose so,” said Mr. Weston, “but if I was running 
this line of steamships I’d have larger vessels and better 
accommodations. I’d have the whole thing different.” 

“Excuse me,” here interrupted Fred, “but you wouldn’t! 
They are not running these steamers for love, are they? No? 
What for then? To make money, like any other business. 
Well, with the small traffic they have they can’t afford to 
do any better than they’re doing. I know that, for the 
second mate told me with tears in his eyes (and the onion 
season hasn’t begun yet, either!) that he always had been 
accustomed to truffles and Piper Heidsieck, but that he had 
to do without them, now! 

Allison then turned, and drew Kate’s attention to some- 
thing in the water below them. 

“That young scamp is not as great a fool as he looks,” 
said Mr. Weston, smiling at the others. 

“Yes?” said Dr. Sinclair, in a bored fashion. “Relation 
of yours, sir?” 

“No,” said Mr. Weston rather shortly. “Son of an old 
friend, traveling with us at present.” 

“Ah, indeed!” opening a magazine that he held in his 
hands, and turning the leaves carelessly. 

Mr. Weston felt a sudden, unaccountable hatred of the 
gentlemanly-dressed man before him, and spoke again — 
“You are a native of the island here I suppose, sir?” 

“I?” raising his heavy eyebrows in surprise. “No; wish 
I were. I am from New York.” 

“Why do you wish you were?” said Kate, turning around, 
girlishly showing that she had heard what had passed. 

“Why?” said the Doctor lazily, “because I do; that is all.” 

“I thought,” answered Kate, “that it was only we poor 
women who dared wish a thing without giving a reason for 
it, and that the logical masculine mind could always explain 
everything.” She looked so sweet and girlish as she threw 
down her tiny gauntlet of defiance that it was not in the 
nature of any man to deny her. Relaxing a little. Dr. Sin- 
clair said pleasantly. 

“Well, I’ll tell you why, Miss Weston. The people here 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


19 


knowhow to live. They don’t rush and work and try to 
live a dozen lives in one. They are content just to sit in 
the sun and take the rain and the shine as it comes, and 
slowly ripen and grow as do their bananas and plum trees. 
Why try to force nature? Why try to be other than you 
are? If you don’t feel like moving, don’t move. If you 
don’t feel like working to-day, don’t work — to-morrow will 
come soon enough. Why strive to do what doesn’t come 
of its own accord? Why be unnatural? Why not live just 
as the Creator intended you should live? Why try to 
improve on His plan?” 

‘‘If all thought as you do, sir, where would our telegraphs 
and railways be?” said Mr. Weston shortly. 

‘‘Are they necessary? Are they needed? Wouldn’t we 
be better off without them?” said the doctor. 

“I don’t think so, sir — I don’t think so. Why, what 
would become of us, if your ideas were carried out?” 

‘‘We would be happier,” said the Doctor dreamily. 

‘‘Let’s see if we would!” said Fred, winking audaciously 
at Kate, and before anyone was aware of his intention, he 
took the magazine the Doctor held between his fingers out 
of his hands and pitched it far over into the water. 

‘‘Good lord,” ejaculated the Doctor, surprised out of his 
philosophical calm. “What did you do that for? That’s the 
last number of ‘Harper’s,’ and I hadn’t read it.” 

‘Tt is better for you that you shouldn’t,” answered Allison 
gravely. ‘‘It is entirely unnecessary. It is not a work of 
nature, but a hot-house plant of art. I assure you that 
I speak the truth as formulated by the best minds of the 
present age.” 

The Doctor laughed and frankly held out his hand to 
the young fellow, saying, ‘‘Well done! You are an apt pupil. 
I shall have to be careful before you, I see. All the same, 
in the main, my argument is the true one.” 

‘‘Well — ” said Mrs. Byrd, breaking into the conversation 
suddenly, as a timid person sometimes does, when nobody 
is exj^ecting it. ‘‘Well — you are consistent at least. Doctor, 
for you don’t get up very early in the mornings. I haven’t 
seen you down as early as this before in ages.” 

‘‘My dear Mrs. Byrd,” bowed the Doctor, “I admit if. 


26 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


Why should I? I breakfast late, because usually I do not 
retire until near daylight.” 

“Then you turn night into day, sir?” said Mr. Weston 
sarcastically. 

“Yes, why not, if one fancies it? If we don’t disturb 
our fellow-men, why not? Are we chickens, that we must 
go to roost at sundown? Am I very wicked that I do this, 
my dear sir?” 

“Humph, we all do what we shouldn’t — that is, to a cer- 
tain extent,” said Mr. Weston. ‘ ‘But I must say I can’t quite 
agree with you, doctor. I like doing things decently and 
in order, so that when I make a contract with Jones or 
Smith a year from date, I expect to find them there.” 

“Even I,” smiled the Doctor blandly, “usually keep any 
engagements that I may make. But I don’t make them — 
except it is unavoidable.” 

“ Mrs. Weston,” said Mrs. Byrd, “ would you and Mr. 
Weston care to drive over with me to Paget to church ? 
It’s a lovely drive, and the rector. Rev. R. Pemberton, is a 
most delightful man ! The altar cloth alone is well worth 
a visit, and the finest people on the island are there on 
Sunday mornings.” 

“ Oh, you are so kind, Mrs. Byrd ; how good of you ! 
Of course we’ll go ! and thank you so much.” 

“ I’m sorry I haven’t room for more than two in my car- 
riage,” said Mrs. Byrd hesitatingly, “ but ” 

“ Oh, never mind, thank you,” broke in Kate brightly. 
“ I’d much rather go for a walk up the road and explore 
the country. Fred — Mr. Allison will go with me, wont 
you ? ” 

“ Of course I will, only too glad to— that is if Mrs. Wes- 
ton can spare us.” 

“ I shall have to ! ” sighed her mother coquettishly. “ I 
am sorry, but you will have to do the best you can, you and 
Kate, until we return.” 

Mrs. Byrd was English, and to her this off-hand disposal 
of a pretty daughter for the morning, to the care of a young 
man, was something odd. To her conservative ideas it 
seemed even a sliding from the path of rectitude, almost 
something immoral ; but a glance at Mrs. Weston’s placid 


STOLEN- AAfEEICA. 


21 


face, and at Kate’s sweet pure one, made her feel that it 
must be all right, especially as Mr. Weston (for whom 
she had unbounded respect as the well-known millionaire 
stock broker of New York) said carelessly : 

“ Well — all right — settle things to suit yourselves. I’m 
not going to move from here, any way. Go off to Church 
or walk, if you want to ; this is good enough for me.” He 
settled himself comfortably in one of the big Shaker rock- 
ing-chairs on the piazza — put his feet up on the railing, and 
took a recent New York paper out of his pocket. 

Mrs. Weston smiled sweetly, and turning to Mrs. Byrd 
said, “ We are deserted by them all ! Let us leave them ! ” 
and linking her arm into that of her new-found acquaint- 
ance, she strolled away. At the end of the piazza, she 
stopped and called out, “ Be careful and not walk too far 
and tire yourself out, Kate dear.” 

“Yes mamma,” answered Kate pleasantly. 

By such little speeches as these Mrs. Weston always 
impressed strangers as being the most thoughtful of 
women ; but to really sacrifice her own comfort in any way 
for Kate or any one else was something she had never yet 
done. And there is nothing much harder to alter than 
refined selfishness : the selfishness that is too dainty to be 
rude, but that is coarse enough to be cruel. 

“ Come,” said Allison, impatiently, as. soon as they were 
out of sight, “ let us take our walk now, Kate.” 

“Wont you come too. Dr. Sinclair? ” said Kate politely. 

True to his inward conviction of indulging the inclina- 
tion of the moment. Dr. Sinclair answered carelessly, 
“ Well, yes, I may as well.” 

Allison’s face clouded over sadly, Kate looked as if it 
mattered nothing whether he stayed or not, and Mr. Wes- 
ton, just glancing up from his paper, said in an off-hand 
manner, “ Well, good-by ; take care of.yourselves.” 

The doctor, walking with leisurely steps, led the way 
down a short hill, to the west of the hotel. “ This way 
please, to the left ; that takes you down to the village,” he 
said, “ and it is better away from it to-day. After a steamer 
or two is in port the streets in the town are over-run with 
sailors, some of them pretty hard cases.” 


22 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“How queer that looks,” said Fred, who was too light- 
hearted to stay sulky long ; “ sort of like a palm, isn’t it ? ” 
he said indefinitely. 

“ No,” said the Doctor with a shrug ; “ that’s a specimen 
of the genus nusa, at present without its fruit.” 

“ Hey ? ” said Allison. 

“ Talk English please, sir,” smiled Kate. 

“ It’s a banana tree,” said the Doctor. “ See how the wind 
has made ribbons out of the great leaves. There are lots of 
them here, you know, but there are not many of them ripe 
yet. The colored people cut them off when green and 
ripen them in the sun.” 

“ Are there many colored people here ? ” said Kate. 

“ Oh yes,” broke in Allison, “ two-thirds of the popula- 
tion of the island are negroes, with a strain of Indian blood 
in them.” 

“ Ah ? ” said the Doctor, with an exasperating smile, “ you 
have studied up the history of the island to good purpose I 
see, young man.” 

“ Don’t see why when a fellow knows a thing he shouldn’t 
tell it,” muttered Allison, flushing an angry crimson. 

“ No reason in the world why he shouldn’t,” asserted the 
doctor coolly. 

Kate kept a grave silence. Suddenly she espied some 
curious-looking flowers growing upon the stone-wall. She 
climbed over a stone or two and picked some. 

“ See ! Aren’t they odd ? Like bunches of bells — fairy 
bells. I wonder what they are? Come now, Doctor,” she 
smiled, “drive into your botany again and inform us.” 

The Doctor hesitated a moment, at which Allison broke 
in sarcastically, “He’s afraid the Latin will be too heavy for 
us, Kate.” 

‘‘It is called the Life Plant,” said the Doctor calmly, 
‘‘because of its wonderful vitality. It is almost impossible 
to kill it. These flowers would stand the glare and the heat 
at any of the dances,” (imitating the broad English accent,) 
‘‘and make a lovely corsage bouquet, but none of the ladies 
seem to fancy it, poor thing-. It’s too common, I suppose. 
It can be picked up anywhere along the roadsides. What! 
You are pinning it at your belt. Miss Weston? You are very 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


23 


rash. All the old settlers at the hotel will smile at your 
perverted taste.” 

“All people are not obliged to like the same thing, are 
they ?” said Kate simply. 

‘‘Most people follow their leader — like sheep,” said the 
Doctor cynically, ‘‘but you perhaps lead others.” 

“No, thank you,” laughed Kate, ‘‘I’ve no ambition that 
way. I’ve always looked at pioneers with a deep admiration, 
but with a shivering sort of awe. Still, can one not be just 
one’s-self,” she said hesitatingly, ‘‘and not try to be any 
one else? Surely, that is not so hard or unusual. Dr. 
Sinclair.” 

‘‘No?” said her companion, ‘‘don’t you think so? Idon’t 
think it’s common myself. However,” glancing at her with 
a new interest — ‘‘I’ve no doubt Raphael couldn’t help paint- 
ing his Madonna, nor Shakespeare help writing out his 
wisdom.” 

“They say now,” said Allison, anixous to join in the con- 
versation he felt uneasily was getting into unfamiliar regi- 
ons, — “they say now, that Shakespeare didn’t write his own 
plays, don’t you know? What do you think of that, Kate?” 

“I’ve no opinion at all,” said Kate, giving the Doctor 
a sudden merry gleam of intellectual sympathy. “I haven’t 
studied up the subject.” 

“Well, seems to me,” went on Allison, with an air of 
wisdom, “that they’ve been a long time in finding it out. 
And I should think that the people who said he wrote them 
long ago, ought to know better than the people that live 
nowadays. ” 

“Bravo!” said the Doctor, clapping him on the shoulder ; 
“that’s the best summing up of the whole matter that I’ve 
heard yet!” Allison smiled guilelessly, pleased at this sud- 
den appreciation. 

Just then a cane Dr. Sinclair was carrying, caught in the 
crevice of a wall, and Allison generously stopped a few 
moments to help him extract it. Kate, walking on, did not 
notice the pause until she was some yards ahead. Then she 
stood still, listening. 

In a grove of cedars were chattering, whistling, and sing- 
ing exultingly, hundreds of birds. Her heart thrilled with 


24 


STOLEN AMEEICA. 


delight at the rippling, triumphant outburst of music. Just 
then, the two men caught sight of her. 

“What an illumined face,” said the Doctor musingly. 

“Yes!” said Allison eagerly, “that’s it! sort of lit up, 
don’t you know, as if a light was behind it. Some say 
Miss Kate isn’t pretty. Now I think when she looks like — 
that — she’s an — angel,” finished the young fellow brokenly. 

“Humph,” said the Doctor grimly. 

‘ ‘ J ust listen ! ’ ’ cried the girl as they approached her. “Did 
you ever hear anything like it? Oh ! it makes me feel rich, ” 
stretching out her arms as if grasping something. 

“By George, it is fine,” said Allison, “and they are pretty, 
too. See, Kate, there’s a bright red one — and, oh ! see 
that little blue chap over there!” 

“Yes,” said the older man dreamily. “One feels as if one 
had never heard birds before. It is one of the facts of this 
lovely island, that it is richer in good things, and more free 
from disagreeable things, than any other spot I know. In 
most tropical climes you hold it against the brilliant plum- 
aged birds, that they croak or screech. In Florida, among 
the flowers and vines, you find the snake hissing at you. 
Here you can see the roses in bloom, the lilies growing in 
the fields, the palms sturdily ornamenting in their own way 
the roadsides, the loquot-tree with its plums, the orange- 
blossoms all ready for the brides — and never a reptile to mar 
the wonder. It’s Paradise here. Or would be, if it were 
not for the Adams and Eves,” finished up the Doctor 
abruptly. 

“You wouldn’t have us all driven out, would you?” said 
Kate, her face changing to a quizzing merriment. 

“Not I!” shrugged the Doctor indifferently. 

“Well, I bid you good-morning just here. Miss Weston. 
I am going off the main road now. Good-morning, sir,” 
nodding to Allison, — then, clearing the stone wall at a bound, 
he soon disappeared from sight. 

“Well!” said Kate, “he’s not over-complaisant. Did 
you expect him to go off like that?” 

“No,” chuckled Allison, “I didn’t expect such luck. 
He’s a disagreeable sort of a fellow, I think — conceited, and 
out of humor with everything, seems to me. Thinks he 


STOLEN AMERICA. 25 

knows it all, too,” he said, with an injured remembrance 
of his first remarks; “I don’t like him.” 

“He seems to be very observing,” said Kate slowly. 

“Yes he is — for his own comfort,” said Allison in a vexed 
tone; “let us forget him, Kate!” 

They walked on and on, passing things that were new to 
them and therefore interesting, filling in the time with care- 
less remarks and chatter. 

But Kate had a feeling of vague dissatisfaction that came 
from the necessity of talking other than she would. They 
were looking at the same things, yes, but with what different 
eyes! One is never more alone than when with an uncon- 
genial companion, and Kate never felt this more than now. 
The passing gleam from another and brighter mind had but 
left her more darkly than ever in the leaden commonplace- 
ness of her young adorer. His bright, careless, boyish chat- 
ter, with all its merit of honest devotion, wearied her like 
the click-clack of some piece of machinery. 

She did not analyze this feeling, nor even speculate about 
it to herself, but it was there all the same. A man of middle 
age once said: “Do you know the greatest annoyance and 
grief of my earliest child-life — what it was? It was flies. I 
can remember living in a place where the flies swarmed and 
buzzed about my face and neck and there was no shooing 
them away. I did not know enough to complain and have 
some intelligent remedy for the grievance, and so I simply 
endured and endured, torture. I never see a helpless baby 
in a carriage now but what I look to see if the poor little 
atom of humanity is not on the rack.” It seemed, when he 
said this, that it was the exaggerated fancy of a diletante 
drawn out to a spider’s web of stretching — but it was not. 
The misery of a voiceless animal is real — let scientists talk 
as they will ; and no animal is as helpless as the human in 
its first stages of existence, before it is fully developed. 
Fully developed? When is that? Dare the oldest and most 
open-eyed among us say? The miseries we feel and blankly 
suffer, when children, maturity solves and smooths for us 
with exasperating facility. What joy it would be to venture 
to hope that the miseries of our maturity the future in some 
Other world may solve with equal simplicity. 


26 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


But Kate was no philosopher, and had no rainbow theories 
of promise stretching across her sky. She felt wearied with 
Fred’s merry chatter, and, long before he desired it, suggested 
that they turn about and go home. 

“I think the folks will be back from church now, don’t 
you?” she said. 

“I suppose so,” said Allison reluctantly, as he consulted 
his watch. ‘‘It’s one o’clock.” 

‘‘Then we must hurry,” said Kate. 

But who could hurry when birds, and blossoms and blue 
sky sang, and bloomed, and glowed, and did all in their 
beautiful power to delay one? 

‘‘I have never quite understood before,” said Kate, 
‘‘what it felt like to have a fortune left me — with so much 
money, that one felt absolutely reckless. To-day- I do. 
See, Fred ! See what we have, just for the picking of them ! 
Look what is ours — just if we raise our eyes ! I never felt 
really rich before in my life.” 

‘‘Honest now, Kate?” said Allison simply. 

‘‘Honest. What is money? There are times when it is 
of no account, because there is nothing to buy with it — 
nothing that one wants,” she supplemented. 

‘‘Oh,” said Fred with a shrug. 

As they neared the hotel, they saw Mr. and Mrs. Weston 
seated on the piazza, Mrs. Byrd with them, and two others. 

‘‘Hellol Your father and mother have picked up some- 
body. Do you know them?” 

‘‘No,” said Kate, a trifle uneasily, ‘‘I don’t. They are 
strangers. Do you know, Fred, I never feel at home in a 
strange hotel until I’ve been in it a week or so? I always 
feel when I walk along the piazzas, and even from one room 
to another, as if I were walking on eggs?” 

‘‘Do you now?” answered Allison curiously, ‘‘I never 
felt that way in my life. All places are about the same to 
me. Some I like better than others, of course, but I soon 
feel at home anywhere.” 

‘‘I don’t, where the people are strangers tome,” answered 
Kate. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


27 


CHAPTER V. 

As they reached the piazza, Mr. Weston arose and came 
to the side of the railing. “Well, you two wanderers, where 
have you been? You’ve got some lovely flowers there. 
Where did you get them?” 

“They were given to us,’’ said Fred, springing up the 
piazza two steps at a time, “by the Head Gardener of the 
Bermudas.’’ 

“You don’t say so!’’ answered Mr. Weston. “Where did 
you meet him?’’ 

“We met him on the roadside, we saw him in the wood. 
He said, ‘Oh, can you carry them?’ We said — we thought 
we could ! ’ ’ 

“Oh!’’ said Mr. Weston, turning away, “I thought you 
really had been somewhere and seen some one.’’ 

“So we have, papa,’’ said Kate. “See? aren’t those lovely? 
That’s the life-plant; those are cactus; that is a banana 
leaf; this is a piece of cedar — ’’ 

“Kate, my dear,’’ here interrupted Mrs. Weston, “I 
want to introduce you to Col. Martin, and his daughter Miss 
Emily Martin. My daughter, Kate — ’’ 

“And our young friend, Mr. Fred Allison,’’ said Mr. 
Weston, as his wife failed to complete the introduction. 

“Oh, yes, certainly; pray excuse my negligence,’’ said 
Mrs. Weston sweetly. 

The English girl bowed stiffly, lifting her white eyelids 
up a moment to look at the new-comers, then dropping them 
again in all demureness and modesty. She was fair-haired, 
of pink and white complexion, reminding one of mother-of- 
pearl, and all that was glossy and silky and white and soft. 
She was square-waisted and slightly round-shouldered; had 
large hands, and was muscular in spite of the fairness that 
suggested the lily and the rose. Kate bowed gracefully — 
as she always did ; and young Allison, taking off his hat with 
an accentuated flourish, held it a moment in his hand, and 
bending over the young English girl, said impressively: “I 
am honored to make your acquaintance.” 

Col. Martin and Mr. Weston both looked at him with 
eyes like gimlets ; but who could find any fault with a young 


28 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


man whose words and face and attitude was that of the 
deepest respect? The girl Emily, without taking her eyes 
off the black silk bag her fingers held, said, “You are exceed- 
ingly kind.” Allison bowed again, but to himself he 
thought — “Lord, am I? Is she guying me already, this 
innocent looking little cat?” Turning to the Colonel, a 
military-looking man of about sixty years of age, he asked: 
“Where is your wife, Mrs. Martin, Colonel? Can I not 
have the pleasure of an introduction to her also?” He had 
a feeling that in some way this would propitiate the Colonel, 
and on principle, he always liked to be on good terms with 
the father of a pretty girl. To his surprise the Colonel 
answered sternly: 

“I am grieved that I cannot oblige you, sir. My wife is 
now an angel in heaven, since three years ago next June. 
She was a most estimable wife and mother ; 1 can never be 
consoled for her loss.” 

He looked so fiercely at poor Fred as he said this, that Alli- 
son felt as if he had received a sudden challenge to fight. 
He answered meekly, “I beg your pardon, sir, I did not 
know. ” 

The Colonel’s stubby white mustache seemed to bristle 
more than ever, as he replied, “I thought not, sir.” 

An awkward silence that no one dared break for a moment 
or two — then Mr. Weston, growing restless, said: “Were 
you ever in New York, Colonel?” 

“No, sir, I have never been in the States at all. Can’t 
say but what I would enjoy it, I think — but my duties keep 
me tied here, you know.” 

“Oh, you should take a rest, it would do you good — and 
you’d enjoy it, I think — that is, to a certain extent. Amer- 
ica is growing to be a big country, I can tell you.” ' 

“So I have understood. You have some quite considera- 
ble towns there, I hear?” 

“Towns! Well, rather. You should see New York, 
Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, or even Kansas City.” 

“Kansas City? Isn’t that one of the Western portions, 
sir? And don’t the Indians overrun that part of the country?” 

Mr. Weston took his feet off the railing, drew his chair 
under him more squarely, and putting one hand on each of 


STOLEN AMERICA. 29 

the Colonel’s knees said emphatically, “Now, who under 
the sun told — you — ^such — stuff — as — that?” 

“Why — why — I can’t quite say, sir. Always heard it 
rumored that such was the case. I can’t quite place my 
informant at this particular instant, sir.’’ 

“Well, it’s a pity,” said Mr. Weston, “that somebody 
don’t send geographies to England and let you folks know 
what the United States are, any way!’’ 

“Sir!” said the Colonel, bristling again. 

“Oh, don’t get mad,’’ said Mr. Weston, “but it just gets 
me, to see how little intelligent men like you, sir, really 
know about America. Why this Kansas City, that you think 
is a village in constant danger of an attack from the Indians, 
has a population of over 100,000 inhabitants, fine resi- 
dences, churches gmd stores, and had, when I was there, the 
largest cable-car system in the world, sir! And this is only 
one of our.many growing towns.” 

“You don’t say so? Is it possible?” ejaculated the 
Englishman. 

“ And, my dear Colonel,” broke in Mrs. Weston, looking 
up at him, “you should see our Saratoga and Long Branch 
in the height of the season. They are well worth seeing, 
I assure you, with the handsomely dressed ladies and all the 
fine carriages. I don’t think you have anything here to 
compare with it.” 

“We have no number of fine carriages here at all, my 
dear madam ; but while our little island can boast of your 
presence upon it, the States must have lost their greatest 
beauty,” answered the Colonel, bowing gallantly. 

“Oh, Colonel, how can you,” simpered Mrs. Weston, 
brushing down the lace on her dress coquettishly. Mr. Wes- 
ton smiled good-naturedly. He always felt flattered when 
his wife’s beauty was appreciated. He resumed his old 
position with his feet upon the railing, and went on: “Yes, 
sir! The United States is well worth a visit.” 

“I have heard very queer tales,” said the Colonel, squaring 
his shoulders — and looking the handsome old officer that he 
was, ‘ ‘about how there are no distinctions of classes at all, don’t 
you know. That when one gave a little dance or a dinner, 
that it was quite customary to invite all one’s acquaintances, 


30 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


sotospeak — promiscuously. Is that a fact?” The Colonel 
had already acquired the information that Mr. Weston was 
one of New York’s representative men — the great millionaire 
stock broker of Wall Street, and he judged that he could 
tell him, if any one could, the truth about the matter. 

“Well,” hesitated Mr. Weston, ‘‘it is and it is not. It is 
a fact — to a certain extent. Generally speaking, you invite 
the people that are in the same set as yourself, whether you 
know them well or not — whether you like them much or not. ” 

‘‘That’s about what it is in England, also,” nodded the 
Colonel. ‘‘One has to keep to their set, as you say. The 
trades-people to their class, and gentry to their class, and 
the professionals to their class.” 

‘‘Oh, I don’t mean that, exactly,” explained Mr. Weston. 
“We don’t care what a man does, so much as what he is.” 

‘‘How, sir.^*” questioned the Colonel. 

‘‘Well, what he is in the Commerical Report — what he’s 
worth, to come down to the plain truth.” 

‘‘And is the amount of pounds and shillings a man pos- 
sesses, his passport into society, sir?” 

‘‘That’s about it?” shrugged Mr. Weston. ‘‘You see a 
man worth a hundred thousand dollars naturally couldn’t 
keep up the establishment of a man that was worth a million; 
that’s plain, isn’t it?” 

‘‘Quite so,” nodded the Colonel. 

“And then the man worth one million couldn’t expect to 
hold a candle to the man that had ten — see? And so it goes. 
After a while, the thing solves itself : The hundred thou- 
sand dollar chaps, and their wives and sons and daughters, 
form a clique of their own, and wouldn’t dream of inviting 
those beneath them to one of their entertainments; and 
they in turn are left out by the million dollar man, and he 
sighs in envy at the few privileged ten-millionaire fellows. 
And so it goes!” 

‘‘Oh, papa,” exclaimed Kate, in protest. ‘‘I don’t think 
that is fair, it isn’t always true.” 

“Well, it usually is, my dear — that is, to a certain extent.” 

“ You are quite right, Mr. Weston,” said Allison. ‘‘As 
Andrew Carnegie says, in Amercia we have the ‘Aristocracy 
of the Dollar. ’ ” 

“Well — i.f hs^ve I don’t see but what it is as good as any 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


31 


other kind!” said Mr. Weston, playing with his heavy gold 
watch-chain. “A man who by his own brain and hard work 
accumulates the wherewithal to open scoiety’s charmed 
doors, — I don’t see but what he has as good a right to go 
inside as the man, with no brains, who never worked a 
day in his life, but who is at the top of the heap all because 
he had a father and a great-grandfather before him. Why, 
when I first started in life, sir, I lived in a small — ” 

‘‘John, my dear,” .interrupted Mrs. Weston, placidly, 
“will you be so kind as to unhook my ear-ring for me. It 
has caught in my lace.” 

“Certainly,” said Mr. Weston, “if I can.” 

As he went over to her chair and bent down to try to 
unloosen it, -she murmured gently, so that no ear but his 
own caught the whisper: “don’t make a fool of yourself.” 
Then aloud she said, with a sweet smile upon her face: 
“Thank you, dear. That relieves me very much. It 
annoyed me all during the church-service.” 

“Mr. Weston,” said the Colonel, “do you ever goto 
Washington?” 

“Washington? Oh dear, yes. I go there frequently. 
Was there at Cleveland’s Inauguration.” 

“Cleveland?” said the Colonel inquiringly. 

“Yes, Grover Cleveland, the last President of the United 
States, you know.” 

“Oh yes — quite so, I remember now,” said the Colonel. 
“But your American politics are so mixed — you have so 
many great men that it’s rather confusing to one not living 
in the realm, you know.” 

“Why did you ask?” said Mr. Weston. 

“Well, I have a brother there: Reginald H. Martin. 
Heard of him, maybe ? ’ ’ 

“No — I haven’t. What’s he in, the Senate?” said Mr. 
Weston. 

“I think not,” said the Colonel doubtfully, “at least I 
never heard him make mention of the fact.” 

“He would, if he had been there,” Allison could not 
refrain from saying. 

‘ ‘Quite possible, sir, ” said the Colonel ; “but he is a man 
of some property and doing very well, I understand.” 


32 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“That’s good,” said Mr. Weston ; “I always like to see 
a man with some push in him; and your brother must have 
some go in him, Colonel, if he has got ahead in Washington. ” 

The Colonel smiled and went on : “Yes; he says in the last 
letter I received from him, that he has as good a house as 
there is thereabouts, and that he has more to attend to than 
he knows how to manage.” 

“Your brother, you say?” said Mr. Weston, eyeing the 
well-dressed, important-looking man before him, handsome 
and self-conscious, a beau of the olden times, — “look like 
you ? ” 

“Oh no! — not in the slightest,” said the Colonel hastily, 
“I was the eldest son, don’t you know, and Reginald had 
to shift the best he could for himself. But he was always 
a rover, and when he' shipped to America years ago, 
we were not at all surprised, and never expected to hear of 
him again. But for the last five years he has written, and 
always sends a remembrance to Emily here at Christmas- 
tide. Evidently he has a good heart, has Reginald.” 

“What business is he in, did you say?” asked Allison. 

“Cattle-raising, cattle — has a Targe ranch in Washington, 
you know — ” 

“What,” cried Fred jumping up. 

“Ranch!” ejaculated Mr. Weston. 

“Yes — I believe that is what you call it. Wasn’t that 
what he wrote, Emily, my child?” turning to his daughter, 
who had sat a quiet and demure listener to all their con- 
versation. 

“Yes, father,” her slow, bell-like tones coming out beauti- 
fully clear. “Yes, that was the word in his letters.” 

“Impossible!” said Mr. Weston, emphatically. 

“Sir?” exclaimed the Colonel. “What do you mean? 
Do you mean to doubt my word, sir?” 

“When you say that your brother has a cattle-ranch in 
Washington? Yes, sir, I do.” 

“Why — why — sir,” stuttered the Colonel, the red blood 
mounting up against his white hair. “Why, sir! I am 
not a liar, sir! I have my brother’s word for it, Mr. Wes- 
ton, and if I do say it, Reginald never was a liar either, sir!” 

“Can’t help what he used to be,” coolly responded Mr, 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


33 


Weston. “If he says he has a cattle ranch now in Wash- 
ington, the best excuse I can make for him is that he must have 
been a little under the weather, when he penned that letter ! ’ ' 

“Papa!” said Kate pleadingly. 

“John!” said Mrs. Weston in a warning tone. 

“Shall I not go and bring the letter here, father, and let 
the gentleman see. for himself?” suggested Emily quietly. 

“We would take it as a great favor if you would,” said 
Allison, bowing to the fair English girl. 

“You don’t deserve it, sir; you are not entitled to any 
proof, when you doubt my veracity,” said the Colonel, 
trembling with rage; “but to convince you that I am right — 
Yes, Emily, child, get the letter! You’ll find it in the 
second drawer of the chest in my room.” 

“Yes, father, ’ ’ she answered dutifully. ‘ ‘ I recollect where 
it is.” 

“Let’s make a bet who is right,” said Allison gaily, hop- 
ing to calm the anger and indignation of the Colonel. “I 
bet on Mr. Weston’s side. A new hat against a bunch of 
bananas, that your brother Mr. Reginald Martin has not a 
cattle ranch in Washington — that it is not so written in his 
letter.” 

“And I,” said Kate, feeling sorry for the poor Colonel, 
whose face was becoming redder and redder — “I say, that 
when we look at the letter we will find that the Colonel 
was right ! ” 

“Thank you, my dear young lady,” said the Colonel, 
slightly mollified, “we will see what we shall see.” 

The Colonel’s deep feeling in the matter made it a sub- 
ject of too much moment for further joking; and all kept 
silent the few moments that they had to wait before Emily 
returned. She was not gone long, and came back quietly 
and sedately, and handed the letter into her father’s eager 
hand. “Now, sir,” rapidly running his eye over different 
parts of it, “here we are : see this sentence, and this: T 
have, now over 20,000 head of cattle, and hope next year to 
still further increase my stock. Mining and the lumber 
trade is not what it used to be in Washington, and I con- 
sider that I went into this stock raising business at a fortu- 
nate time. It seems a strange business for me to be in, dear 


34 


STOLEN" AMEEICA. 


brother, but in this wonderful land there are many more 
unusual sights than this, of a poor devil of a second son, 
driving herds of cattle’ — and so on. Now what do you say 
to that ?” 

“I still stick to my assertion,” said Mr. Weston doggedly. 

“Well, I’m blessed if I can understand this — ” said Alli- 
son, as the evidently frank, honest tone of the whole letter 
seemed the reverse of untruth or exaggeration. 

Kate, in turn, had the letter in her hands, and as she turned 
the leaf, her eye fell upon the heading of the first page. 
She rippled over with laughter. “Ha! ha! ha! ha! if 
this isn’t the funniest! Why, of course, Mr. Martin told 
the truth. Colonel, his letter is dated Nov. 28th, Washing- 
ton Territory, U. S. A!” 

“Oh!” chuckled Mr. Weston. “That is the best I ever 
heard.” 

Even Mrs. Weston laughed heartily — but the Colonel only 
looked more nonplussed than ever. 

“Why, I thought,” said Mr. Weston, “that you meant 
the city of Washington — the capital of the U. S., D. C. I 
didn’t know you meant the Territory.” 

“It isn’t the same thing, then?” said the Colonel, light 
beginning to dawn upon him. 

‘‘ Hardly ! ’’ said Mr. Weston. “Why, one is a city, a fine 
city ; the other is a State or Territory, of large extent but 
few inhabitants — only sparsely settled. Of course he can 
have a cattle ranch there ! a dozen of them if he wants to. 
Well, this is a lark ’ Funniest kind of a mistake — wasn’t it? ’’ 

“ Not unnatural, I think ’’ said the Colonel stiffly, feeling 
a little piqued that he had displayed his geographical igno- 
rance again. “ Are the two places very far apart ? ’’ 

“Well,’’ said Allison, “no — not so very. If you ever 
went to Washington, D. C., Colonel, you’d have to travel 
to get to Washington Territory, where your brother is, 
about four times as much farther, before you reached him. 
You would have to go entirely across the United States.’’ 

“ Well, America must be a big country,’’ agreed the Colo- 
nel, for once impressed. 

“ Big enough to swing a cat in,’’ said Mr. Weston, with a 
triumphant laugh. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


35 


“John,” said Mrs. Weston, “ how can you? My dear 
Colonel — we may have a big country, but it is not civilized,” 
said she sweetly. “ We have nothing to compare to what 
you have in England and France.” 

“You have been abroad, then, my dear madam?” said 
the Colonel, drawing up a chair near by, and preparing to 
give his attention to the pretty woman, whom he mentally 
decided was thrown away upon that ill-mannered Ameri- 
can cad. “ You have been to London ? ” 

Mr. Weston smiled, and said to Emily : “ 1 suppose you 
think there is no place like England either. Miss? Every- 
body seems to love their own country.” 

“ I am a Bermudian,” said Emily softly, raising her blue 
eyes and looking with a baby-like gaze at Mr. Weston. “ I 
have never been to England. But I should like to see the 
mother-country some time.” 

“ It’s a big place — big place,” said Mr. Weston, “ too 
small for the people who are in it. Awfully crowded — 
awfully crowded.” 

“ Phew ! ” said Allison, “ Do you people know what time 
it is ? Nearly two o’clock, and dinner must have been 
ready half an hour ago.” 

“ Bless my soul,” said the Colonel, rising instantly — “how 
could 1 have forgotten it ? Make haste, Emily, I fear we 
shan’t have a bite that’s fit to eat. Good-day, my dear 
madam — Mr. Weston — ladies and gentlemen, I will see you 
later in the afternoon.” And with an Englishman’s dismay 
at the prospect of a spoiled meal, he hurried along the piazza, 
unconscious that he was a source of merriment to the uncul- 
tured Americans he left behind him. They very soon fol- 
lowed in his footsteps, however, as we must eat to live, no 
matter what our age or condition, our country or our politics. 

As they were seated at their table, the proprietor of the 
hotel came up to Mr. Weston, and said politely : “Would it 
annoy you, sir, to have one more at your table ? We are 
very much crowded just at present, and there is a gentle- 
man here that I cannot seat unless you will kindly permit 
him to have this end chair.” 

“ Why, certainly — don’t mention it,” said Mr. Weston 
cordially — “ Where is he ? ” 


36 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


“ In the drawing-room,” answered the host, beaming at 
the easy solution to his trouble. “I didn’t like to bring 
him to your table without consulting you.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right ! ” said Mr. Weston good-naturedly ; 
“ bring him right in.” 

In a few moments the proprietor came back, followed by 
a tall, slight, dark-faced man of about fifty. 

“ Mr. Weston, allow me to introduce to you Count Louis 
Saviotti, from Paris, France.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

It is wonderful what a community of interest, however 
limited, will accomplish. Here in this hotel life of daily 
living, where people ate and slept and woke up again, and 
idled through another day as best they might, with no other 
object in view than just existing — people as far apart as the 
sun and the earth had, for the time being, a common human- 
ity. Men, who when at home never had time to think of 
the weather, now gravely discussed it with their fellow- 
beings and gave forth their views with due weight. Women, 
gathered like atoms into their own peculiar groups, talked 
confidentially with strangers they had met but the week 
before. They had nothing else to do and the day must be 
gotten through in some way. 

Under these circumstances formal barriers are quickly 
removed, and people become as intimate in a fortnight of 
such daily intercourse as years of more complicated exist- 
ence could make them. Mr. and Mrs. Weston, Kate, and 
Allison had been gathered into their own particular little 
circle, and were feeling as much at home there as if that had 
always been their environment. 

Within this circle was Colonel Martin and his fair daugh- 
ter Emily, Mrs. Byrd, Dr. Sinclair, and Count Saviotti. 

One fine, beautiful morning — one of those dazzling, sunny 
days that seem with their intensity of bright light, to farever 
defy all clouds and rain-storms — Allison drove around to 
the front piazza of the “ Princess,” in a style only possible 
to the “ Island.” 


STOLEj^ AMERICA. 37 

“ Isn’t he a daisy, Kate ? ” he said, as he jumped out of 
the little light dog-cart. 

He — the little gray donkey hitched up in front of the tea- 
cart, raised his eyes at this comment upon his personal 
appearance, and looked steadily at the group upon the steps. 
He did not put his thoughts into words, but opening his 
mouth, showed his white teeth, then closed it again, without 
a remark. Probably he didn’t wish to hurt their feelings by 
openly expressing his opinion of them. 

“What did you get him for ?” laughed Kate. “ To see if 
he could pull the cart ? ” 

“ I got him to take you outriding around the North Shore 
or anywhere else you want to go to,” said Allison seri- 
ously. “ You may think he is small, but I assure that 
appearances are very deceptive, and that he could carry 
four people like you and me — any day.” 

“ Is it posseeble ? I should have thought that you him 
could carry — much better ! ” said Count Saviotti, smiling 
and showing his teeth. 

“ Hardly,” said Allison dryly. “ Come, Kate, are you 
ready ? ” 

“ Why, yes,” said Kate, “ I am ready — but he does look 
so tiny. Are you sure that he’s strong enough ? ” 

“ Sure ? Do you know what he did last week. Miss 
Doubting Thomas ? He carried the Governor from here 
over to Gibb’s Hill Lighthouse.” 

“ Oh, very well, then,” said Kate, “ I am honored by hav- 
ing the chance to ride behind him now.” 

She got into the little tea-cart gracefully, because she 
stepped in naturally as a child might have done, good- 
naturedly disdaining any help from either Allison or the 
Count, who stood close by ready to give her aid. 

“ Here Kate, my dear,” said Mr. Weston, giving her a 
short stick. “ Here’s a piece of bamboo, if he gets stub- 
born.” 

“And Kate, my dear,” said Mrs. Weston, handing her a 
lace parasol daintily, “ here is a shield from the sun.” 

“ And here. Mademoiselle Weston, ees un morceau de 
I’arbre de vie, to remind you that you take good care 


STOLEM AMERICA. 


3S 

of yourself — pour vos amis, que vous avez quittes," bowing 
and handing 'her a bunch of her favorite life-plant bells. 

“ And here is an umbrella ; will you not take it ? ” said 
Emily, pleasantly — as Kate shook her head and pointed up 
at the glorious blue sky and sunshine. 

“ And here am I, and Moses,” said Allison, pointing with 
mock solemnity to himself and the donkey, “ and we aren’t 
saying anything, but we think that you have kept us waiting 
nearly long enough.” 

“ I’m ail ready,” said Kate brightly. “Good-by ! Good- 
by everybody ! All right mamma — I’ll put it up,” raising 
the parasol ; “ we have the stick ail safe, papa ! Good-by, 
Count Saviotti ! ” taking out a spray of the life-plant and 
waving the bells at him — “ Good-by ! ” 

Moses pricked up his ears, picked up his feet and in 
prompt response to Allison’s chirrup, started smartly off 
down the road that led away from the hotel. 

Just what the charm about Kate was, perhaps no individ- 
ual could explain. It was not her beauty, her best friends 
conceded that. It was not her brains, that they would have 
told you also — for she made no pretense to intellectual 
superiority, and was in no sense a strong-minded woman. 
She was not a particularly religious woman either, for she 
had been known to miss Sabbath services, and was not 
noted for her zeal in church matters in any direction. And 
yet, every person who had any intercourse with Kate, from 
the bell-boy in the hotel up to acquaintances and dearest 
friends, liked to meet her, spoke well of her, wanted to see 
her again, and gave a consideration to all her words and 
wishes, that was as remarkable as it was universal. What 
was it ? Could it be that it was only her simple natural- 
ness, her gentle keeping true to her own sweet instincts ? 
That sounds weak and colorless and dull. And yet this 
same naturalness and gentleness has outcomes of strength 
and wisdom, beyond our paltry reasoning, above our carping 
criticism. 

“Where shall we go?” said Allison. “Would you care 
to go around to the North Shore ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed,” answered Kate, “ I haven’t been up that 
way yet, only down to the village. We can see the ‘ Duck- 


STOLEN AMERICA, 39 

ing Stool ’ then, where in olden times scolding wives were 
dipped in the water to cool their tempers.” 

“ Funny notion that, wasn’t it ?” said Allison. “ I sup- 
pose they had to tie them on in some way, didn’t they ? ” 

“ Yes,” nodded Kate, “ they stretched a board along from 
the rock, I believe, with a chair on the end, and then dipped 
her in, up and down, like a see-saw, poor thing ! ” 

“ Poor husband ! who had to live with her after she 
had got home again ! ” said Fred, ‘‘just imagine her wrath 
when she got him all alone to herself afterwards — 
phew ! ” 

This last word was prolonged into a whistle, which the 
donkey Moses took as a special request to him to go faster, 
and faster he did go, trotting down a hill which they came 
to, at a pace that nearly took their breath away, and almost 
joggled them out of the little cart. “ Hold on ! I say ! ” 
shouted Allison, “ wait for us, won’t you ?” jerking and pull- 
ing at the reins with all his strength. After several minutes 
of severe muscular action on Fred’s part, Moses slowed up 
into an easy, gentle trot. “ You young monkey ! ” muttered 
Fred. 

“ Young donkey, you mean, don’t you ? ” laughed Kate, 
straightening her broad-brimmed hat, which had almost 
blown off of her head during the late whirlwind. “ I didn’t 
think he could go so fast — did you, Fred ? ” 

“ No, but he’s like a good many other folks in this world, 
he can stir himself when he wants to.” 

They jogged along the bright white road, up hill and 
down dale, seeing new and beautiful pictures of sea and 
land at every turn. They passed palms and palmettoes and 
paw-paw trees, while over the picturesque stone walls climbed 
odd vines and plenty of cacti and life-plants. Occasionally 
a field of glorious lilies, that seemed like the dark green sea, 
with white caps waving along its top, came into sight. Then, 
with a gorgeous luxuriousness, some poor negro’s cottage 
would be overrun with blooms and vines and roses, with a 
spendthrift lavishness beyond all art or price. 

And then the water ! The glorious crystal-blue water ! 

“ Some things cannot be talked of, written about, painted, 
nor dreamed ; they must be seen,” said Kate musingly. 


40 


STOLEN AMEkiCA. 


‘‘ Oh, don’t get poetical,” said Allison. “ Keep that for 
Dr. Sinclair or the Count, wont you ?” looking at her with 
mock pleading in his merry eyes. 

“ All right ! I forgot myself,” said Kate. “ I will try and 
keep to subjects that you can understand, you poor little 
boy ! I say Fred, how vexed that English officer looked 
the other night in the parlor when you sang that song ; 
didn’t he ? ” 

“ Oh yes,” laughed Fred. “It was as good as a play to 
watch him. I could hardly strum the banjo, when I saw 
the look of high-bred disgust that came over his face at the 
second verse : 

“ He wears four suits of clothes a day, 

Has thirteen pairs of shoes, 

And sports a golden-headed cane. 

And raves about the ‘ views.’ 

He tells ‘ our girls ’ they’re picturesque, 

And lauds them to the skies, 

But when he’s talking to his chums. 

He calls them all ‘ such guys ! ’ 

CHORUS : 

“ Oh, take John off the Island ! 

He’s breaking hearts, I say — 

Take John off the Island ! 

We will not let him stay.” 

Allison sang the words out in a round, hearty boyish 
voice, with keen enjoyment. “ Do you know, Kate, that 
fool came to me afterward, and said that if I knew the in- 
dividual referred to in the ballad I sang the night before, 
that he would be much obliged if I would do him the favor 
of introducing him. I asked him what for? and he said ; 
‘ Well, really, I can’t let any slur — not even a slight one, be 
cast upon ‘ the girls,’ on our Island. They are, some of 
them, of very high degree, of even titled families.’ I kept 
my face straight as long as I could, and then I said ; ‘ Oh 
yes. I’ll introduce you. He is Uncle Sam — Jonathan — 
called ‘ John,’ for short, by his intimate friends — like me ! ’ ” 

“ Oh, Fred ! ” exclaimed Kate, “ how could you ? ” 

“ How could I ? Easily enough. But he didn’t tumble 
(beg pardon, Kate, I didn’t mean to use slang). He just 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


41 


looked rather bewildered, and I politely gave him a cigar, 
and strolled off before he knew whether he ought to knock 
me down or not. What prigs and fools these Englishmen 
are ! ” said the young American emphatically. “ They 
make me tired.” 

“I think they take life more seriously than we do,” said 
Kate gently. 

They drove along the Northern shore, and then turned 
down one of the many roads that led toward the town again, 
as Kate discovered that she wanted to do a little shopping. 
The shops in Hamilton are truly English in this characteristic. 
They do put all their best goods in their windows. The 
French put in all their stock usually; the Amercians put in 
samples of the best they have ; but the English, especially in 
Bermuda, leave it entirely to your own desires whether you 
penetrate beyond their solid, quaint old door-ways or not. 
Once in, you see no attractive display of color and fabric, 
but, upon request for various articles, you will be often times 
amazed at the riches quietly stowed away in some seemingly 
barren and modest little store. Kate had found this out, 
and having, like all American girls, plenty of spending money, 
some way discoyered, very often, new and unfilled wants, that 
necessitated a trip to the village. As they drove along the 
beautiful roads and by-ways, they passed occasionally a few 
persons on the road, but only a few; and most of these 
were negroes. 

“Seems to me, that the English girls do not walk much 
here,” said Kate. 

“I can’t tell you why, I’m sure,” answered Fred, “except 
perhaps, that they don’t think it proper.” 

As they drove along, they finally reached Tower Hill, a 
rather steep slope of about three hundred feet down toward 
Front Street. Just then, Moses, who had faithfully and 
quietly trotted along with them until now, stood still. 

“Get up!” chirruped Allison. Moses did not move. 
“Get up !” said Allison. Still Moses did not move. Whether 
it was the sudden descent of the street that caused his heart 
to fail, whether it was that he wanted to stop to enjoy the 
view, or whether it was that he had come to the firm con- 
clusion that two big human beings with four feet between 


42 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


them, were as well able to use those feet as he was to use 
his, never can be known. But he stopped certainly, and, 
blandly flapping his long ears, stood still to see what they 
were going to do about it. They did everything that mor- 
tals could. Fred whipped him, he coaxed him, he talked 
to him — no use ! Then Allison and Kate both got out, and 
Allison tried to lead him by the bridle down the hill. No — 
Oh no! he wasn’t going to be moved in that way. Passers- 
by stopped with interest to see the result. Kate laughingly 
stood on the sidewalk and watched Allison getting redder 
and redder in the face, as he pulled and jerked angrily at 
Moses’s head. 

“Why — they — call — you — Moses — ” panted Allison, “I 
don’t see.” Moses looked mild reproach out of his calm 
eyes at this, but didn’t stir. “I will — make — you — move — 
you — wretch!” muttered Allison, pulling with all his might. 
But no, Mr. Gray-ears only planted his pretty little feet 
more firmly than ever, and tossed up his black nose in 
disdain. 

At last, abandoning the struggle in disgust, Fred left 
him, and seating himself upon the curbstone, wiped the drops 
of labor from off his forehead, saying sarcastically: 

“Oh, we’re in no hurry! Take your time! We’ll wait, 
certainly, until you think it best to go. Don’t hurry your- 
self on our account.” 

Moses flapped his long ears gently up and down, and slowly 
turning his head, gazed at him mournfully, as one who was 
grievously misunderstood. Kate’s laugh rang out with the 
clear abandon of a child. “Oh, this is too funny, Fred! 
What shall we do? And it’s beginning to sprinkle rain. 
What shall we do?” 

“We’ll go over there into the ‘Tower,’ ” said Fred, rising 
to the occasion, ‘ ‘and see if we can’t buy or beg an umbrella. 
I’ll be blest if I ever go out in any of their donkey-carts again. 
Come, Kate.” 

Fred led the way, feeling annoyed and crestfallen. To 
still further irritate him, standing within the stone doorway 
of the “Tower” was Dr, Sinclair, a smile of amusement 
upon his face, 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


43 


“Oh, Doctor,” laughed Kate, “Isn’t it ridiculous? 
Moses won’t stir an inch for us.” 

“I saw that his views did not coincide with yours,” said 
the Doctor, “but that is not strange, seeing that he belongs 
to such a different branch of the family.” 

“Oh come,” said Fred boyishly, “you needn’t 
chaff! Just try to budge him an inch yourself, and you’ll 
see.” 

“Thank you, it would be useless for me to try where you 
have failed,” said the Doctor. “I would rather do some- 
thing much easier: if Miss Kate here will accept of a share 
of my umbrella and my escort home.” 

“Why — I don’t know — ” said Kate hesitatingly. “What 
will you do, Fred, if I leave you?” 

“Oh, I’ll manage,” answered Fred, with excusable sulk- 
iness. “Go on with the Doctor. It must be near dinner- 
time, and Lord knows when that beast will be willing to 
move. Don’t mind me, Kate,” alittle more graciously. ‘‘I 
don’t mind it, you know. I was only put out on your account. 
You and Dr. Sinclair go ahead, ‘and if you get there before 
I do, tell ’em I’m a-coming, ’ too,” humming the refrain of 
an old darkey air. 

Kate smiled gentle and sympathetic appreciation upon 
Allison, and then turned demurely toward the Doctor. “I 
am ready,” she said. 

How every line of Kate’s face pressed itself down into 
the Doctor’s mind. He did not love her? Oh dear, no; 
he saw in her but a crude, natural, half-grown child. She 
did not fill his ideal of a woman in any way ; in looks, in 
mind, or in experience. And yet, an impulse to see her 
safely back to the hotel was so strong within him, that he 
yielded to it without thinking. 

And Kate? To her the Doctor had a great charm; that 
of an unread mystery. The idealizing that a young, well- 
educated innocent girl will indulge in, is something marvel- 
ous. But the solution is easy: she takes things to be what they 
seem, and not what they are. According to the generous 
imagination of the girl, this dreaming lasts longer or shorter. 
Alas! that she cannot dream on forever; that the awaken- 
ing must come some day ! Some day, when she will hnd 


44 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


the truth that there are no gods on this fair earth of ours, 
only poor frail human beings. 

A human being, mani or woman, is a strange thing. Its 
weakness and its strength, its possibilities of joy or misery, 
are all its own. Folly to try and link us to the angels: we 
are not angels ! Absurd to say that the worst of us are 
devils; we are not such ! Why don’t they teach this in the 
schools? that we are not divine, not devilish, but that we 
are — just human. It would be true, and it would be one 
of those truths that would make happiness, by preventing 
misery. 

“You had better take my arm,” Dr. Sinclair said. “I can 
hold the umbrella better so.” 

Kate took hold of it, and they walked along down the hill, 
glancing occasionally back at Moses, who calmly stood there 
in the shower, evidently enjoying himself. After they had 
walked a square or so, Kate said: “Doctor Sinclair, would 
you mind going up this street a short distance with me? I 
want to call at David’s shop for some calabashes that he 
promised to polish for me.” 

“Certainly not,’’ said the Doctor; “what are you going 
to do with them. Miss Weston? Use them for drinking- 
cups?’’ 

“Hardly,” smiled Kate. “I’m not going to use them at 
all — except as curiosities. You know,” she said hesitatingly, 
“they are not common at home.’’ 

“No, not just in the shape we have them here, but they 
are near relatives to many specimens of the same gourd 
family that we have in America.” 

“Will you tell me something about them?” said Kate 
modestly, and with a genuine feeling of respect for the 
man before her. She looked up at him with an earnest, child- 
like gaze, that made the Doctor feel very happy. There are 
some men born teachers, only the pupils are sometimes want- 
ing ; but here was one, hungry and waiting for all that he had 
to give. He smiled a kindly smile, without any cynicism 
in it for once. Alas! that our noblest traits are the virtues 
we are unconscious of! Just now Dr. Sinclair and Kate 
were showing their best selves to each other, and neither 
knew or thought of such a thing. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


45 


“Well,” said the Doctor, settling his glasses more com- 
fortably upon his nose, “you rknow that the gourd family is 
a large one, and like all families, some members of it are 
more useful to society at large than others. Take these 
same calabashes, for instance; they belong to the bottle 
branch of the family, and, like other bottles, are only of 
value because of what is put into them.” 

“What do you mean?” said Kate. 

“Well, they are of no use in themselves. The calabash 
when really ripe, is bitter and cathartic, and no one except a 
chemist hard put would use the inside of it. In the West 
Indies, though, they have a curious dish that they make of 
it when about half- grown. They stuff it with rice and 
minced meat and flavor it with onions, pepper, etc., and then 
boil it. Eastern epicures consider it quite a dainty, but 
you could not be hired to eat it, I fancy. We do not know 
how far back the cultivation of the gourd was begun,” said 
the Doctor dreamingly, more as if talking to himself than to 
a listener; “the Romans had the bottle gourd. It is even 
doubtful if it was not cultivated in America long before 
European settlers came over. Dr. Asa^G'ray thinks that a 
number are native to the American plains as the Indian 
tribes had many in their possession before the discovery of 
the continent, so-called.” 

“What are the ones that we have in America?” asked 
Kate. 

“Do you like pumpkin pies?” smiled the Doctor, “or 
squash? Those are the useful members of the family,” he 
nodded, “and I have personally a particular fondness for 
the last in the spring-time of its youth ; have you? And I 
can remember when I was a boy of a small gourd called the 
‘Mock orange’ that was a source of great curiosity to me.” 
He laughed. “It used to be in my grandmother’s work- 
basket, and I used to look at it and smell it and put my 
tongue on it, and ask the old lady what it was and where 
she got it. She told me rather sternly, ‘that it was for darn- 
ing socks, and that children shouldn’t ask so many ques- 
tions.’ For years I thought that old lady knew something 
about that strange thing that she wouldn’t tell me — and it 
had all the charm of a mystery withheld. ^ Poor old grand- 


46 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


mother! In later life I found out that she had bought it 
out of a wandering peddler’s pack, and knew no more about 
it than I did myself.” 

By this time they had reached David’s shop, which Kate 
had taken the trouble to hunt up the week before, in grateful 
remembrance of his kindness to her the first day that she 
arrived in Bermuda. She had found it to be a small shed 
made of limestone with an earthen floor, a rough bench at 
one side, and an old wooden stool its only seat. Hung 
around its walls were calabashes in their green state and in 
their finished ; and all sorts of odds and ends made out of 
cedar; tables, jewelry-boxes, paper-cutters, napkin rings, 
those many little vagaries that are whittled out of wood to 
suit a fanciful civilization. 

‘‘Oh, good-morin’. Miss Waston,” said David, bowing 
and smiling as they reached the doorway. ‘‘Walk right 
in out ob de rain; oh yes, I’se done got de calabashes polished 
for you.” 

Kate and Dr. Sinclair went into the little shop, which 
was so small, and they were so big, that they seemed to fill 
it all up at once. 

‘‘What a beautiful piece of cedar!” exclaimed Dr. Sin- 
clair, picking up a slab as highly polished as if it were mar- 
ble. ‘‘Look at the knots and quirls and lines here. Miss 
Kate; this is really remarkable; what is it for, David?” 

‘‘Dat’s for de top of a table; see, dis is de legs of it.” 

‘‘Oh, I see,” said Kate. ‘‘Yes, it’s lovely.” 

‘‘How much would you sell this for, David?” asked Dr. 
Sinclair. 

‘‘Mighty sorry to disoblige you, sah, but I can’t sell dat; 
dat’s tended as a present fo’ a lady — but I’ll try an git you 
anoder piece jus’ as good, sah — if dat’ll do,” and here he 
winked and blinked and screwed up his face behind Kate’s 
back, in a manner very suggestive. 

The Doctor smiled and nodded understandingly, and 
said: ‘‘Well — all right, then, David, I’ll call in some other 
time and see what you’ve got.” 

‘‘Tank you, sah; tank you, sah,” said David eagerly. 

Kate, all unconscious that the cedar was intended as a 
present for herself^ looked about the little place, examining 


STOLEN. AMERICA. 


47 


different things hung up on the walls, and bought a number 
of specimens of coral, a palmetto fan, a hand-bag made of 
grass, a paper-weight, and various little things that she in- 
tended to give away as souvenirs of the Island, when she 
should be once more at home again. 

“ What a beautiful color this cedar is. Doctor ! ” she said. 
“ Is it always like this ? ” 

“ No, not always ; the Japanese cedar is a little darker 
and even more durable. The American white cedar, found 
in some swampy sections of Ohio and Massachusetts, is 
much lighter, a sort of a dirty white, and is used mostly for 
making fences and coopers’ staves. The Spanish cedar is 
somewhat different yet, and owing to the fine grain of wood, 
is capable of fine carving ; it was used by the Greeks for 
the making of images, and the oil was sometimes extracted 
and considered good for skin diseases.” 

“Oh, dear me! ’’sighed Kate, “ how much there is to 
learn in this world ; and how much you know. Dr. Sinclair ! ” 
she said ingeniously. ‘ 

“ I, Miss Weston ? I know nothing ! ‘ Knowledge 

comes, but wisdom lingers,’ the Prince of Poets says. 
Knowing anything always reminds me of climbing up a 
mountain ; you work and struggle and catch your breath 
and strain, and persevere until you reach the top of that 
particular peak. When you have gained the top, what do 
you find ? That you are upon an eminence wherefrom you 
can look down upon all the universe ? Not at all ! You find 
that the slight elevation you have gained only enables you to 
see other and many different ranges of mountains before 
unseen or dreamed of, and of which you know not any- 
thing at all 1 No, Miss Kate,” said the Doctor quietly, “ I 
know nothing, and that man is a fool who thinks himself 
wise.” 

They chatted for a few moments longer with David, 
whose dark face beamed happily at every word Kate 
addressed to him, and finally took leave of him and went 
their way. When they reached the Princess Hotel, Mrs. 
Byrd, who was seated upon the piazza, came up to Kate and 
said : “Will you be so kind as to come into the drawing- 
rcora ^nd play some accompaniments on the piano for me ? ” 


48 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“ With pleasure,” smiled Kate, just as soon as I put 
my things away. Can you wait a few moments 

“Oh, yes,” nodded Mrs. Byrd. “You’ll find me in there 
when you come downstairs.” 

Her voice was not very large, but her own confidence in 
it was, and that seemed to answer the same purpose. 

As they toiled up the stairway together the Doctor said 
cynically : “ What do you bother with that old woman for 1 
Why do you waste yourself so ? ” 

Kate laughed, and said coquettishly, as she left him on 
the landing : “ Nothing is wasted that is used — is it ? ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” shrugged the Doctor, turning on his heel and 
leaving her. 


CHAPTER VII. 

It was evening at the “ Hamilton Hotel,” the rival sister 
of “ The Princess.” Strains of music blended in with the 
indistinct murmur of voices. Throughout the long cor- 
ridors, and in its many cosy reception-rooms, and in its 
larger drawing-rooms, lights blazed, and colors gleamed and 
all was life and warmth and movement. One of their 
notable “ Dances” was being held that evening, and besides 
the usual number of guests of the hotel, were present the 
best people of the Island, and those from other hotels who 
were so fortunate as to receive an invitation to be present. 
It was a mixed company, but the mixture was not all objec- 
tionable. The differences, like the varieties of a masque- 
rade, only gave interest to the scene, and the oddities and 
beauties of one portion only helped to bring out the pecul- 
iarities and good points of another. For we all have our 
good points, as well as our absurd ones — come we from 
London, New York, Paris or Bermuda. 

One moment there would pass by a red-coated young 
officer of the English Army, too self-conscious of the uni- 
form and all unconscious of his own latent bravery. Then 
would pass by a clamorous American couple, the worst 
specimens of their class, loud in speech,- dress and manners, 
smiling with complacency, shining with diamonds. Then, 
seriously handing some English matron to a seat, would be 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


49 


some grave dignitary of the Island — plain, manly, simple, 
with the simplicity of all true greatness. Now would pass 
by a group of Bermudian girls, oh, so English! healthy, 
hearty, honest natural bodies. So pink and white, so quiet, so 
sedate, so outrageously dressed in their innocent imitation 
of their ancestors who had copied French grand-dames 
years ago. Low-necked dress and short sleeves, coral 
beads around necks that did not need the color, gorgeous 
ribbon sashes fastened on unhappily without any raison 
d'etre^ all sorts and kinds of dashy, showy, bizarre toilets, 
that clothed their demure wearers very strangely. And it 
depends so on the wearers ! To the credit of these lovely 
Island girls be it said, that they looked sweet, womanly, and 
modest, in spite of colors and cuts that would have ruined 
the reputation of any of their sisters from “ the States.” 

There were plenty of those there also ; well dressed, well 
behaved, but with a certain bird-like alertness in every move- 
ment, that distinguished them at once as “ Americans.” 
From the Princess Hotel that evening there was a full 
representation. Among others were Mr. and Mrs. Weston, 
Kate, whose escort for the evening was Count Saviotti, 
Allison, Colonel Martin and Emily. 

In one of the small rooms off the main hall, looking very 
tall and handsome in his evening suit, his swarthy face 
decidedly flushed with wine, stood Dr. Sinclair. His com- 
panion, Mrs. Gascoigne, was smiling up at him coquettishly, 
shrugging white shoulders under filmy laces that scarcely 
hid them, conscious of his admiration and enjoying it. 

“ I thought you were never coming,” she said with a pout. 
“ I’ve been here by myself for at least ten minutes.” 

“ Thank, you my dear,” he replied, “ but why mar the 
present. Am I not here now ? Come — let me have a look 
at you — so. Yes, you are lovely, ah, yes, and dozens will 
tell you that besides me to-night.” 

“ You know I care nothing for the others. I am glad if 
you are pleased. Isn’t the music good ? ” 

“ So so,” answered Dr. Sinclair ; “ but why people will 
work so hard to enjoy themselves as some of these folks are 
doing in that room there, I can’t see. More fools they ! 
Come, let us sit down,” taking her hand and leading her to 


STOLEN AMERICA. 




a settee. “You are a very beautiful woman, do you know 
it? ” 


“ Do you think so, really ? ” looking at him brightly. 

“ You know I do — ” kissing her neck with a touch as 
light as a summer’s breeze. “ Give me one of those roses, 
will you ? ” 

“What for?” she answered, leaning back happily, drink- 
ing in his strong face with hungry eyes. “ For you to hand 
to the first pretty girl that you meet ? No, sir ! ” 

“ You know better,” bending nearer to her ; “ you know I 
shall treasure it forever. Come, that little bud there, sweet 
and pink, like yourself.” 

“ Take it then,” the woman answered, “ you must work a 
little for your good things; I’m not going to prick my fingers 
with the thorns.” At her breast the pink and white roses 
nodded sweetly. She crossed her hands in her lap de- 
murely and waited for him to help himself. 

“ I would like your portrait painted so,” he said, survey- 
ing her critically, “ and I would call you ‘ Queen of June.’ 
Ah,” rummaging in his pockets, “ here it is,” taking out a 
pen-knife ; “you see, I shall not hurt my fingers either, my 
dear,” cutting off the bud in question with one deft stroke 
and holding it up. “ Ah ! but it is sweet ! you know I shall 
keep it forever.” 

“ I know nothing of the kind ! ” she answered, while her 
blue eyes flashed, “ I don’t believe that you care one bit for 
the rose, or for me either ! ” 

He laughed softly, and said as he carefully pinned the 
flower in his buttonhole : “ You are very foolish. I cer-. 
tainly care for the rose, and how much more for the Queen 
of the Roses ? Come,” taking hold of one of her hands and 
caressing it, “ don’t make me unhappy the few short 
moments that I can be alone with you, — don’t.” 

Her face flushed and paled alternately under his gaze, 
and at last looking at him, she said : “ I know it is foolish, 
but, Richard, you are so sure of yourself, so strong, so self- 
contained, you never lose your head at all — that I feel as if 
you cannot care for me.” 

“ Humph — thank you ! because I am not a fool I cannot 
love you ? Wait, wait until some time when we are far 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 5 1 

from "prying eyes, and I will show you what you are 
to me ! ” 

His eyes flashed, his hand tightened its grasp on hers, 
when suddenly, coming along the hall, through the partly 
open doorway, were Kate and Count Saviotti. Instantly 
Dr. Sinclair rose to his feet as if to meet them. 

“ Oh, here you are ! ” smiled Kate, coming in. “ We were 
looking for you to make up our set. Dr. Sinclair. Oh, don’t 
you know Count Saviotti?” she said to Mrs. Gascoigne. 
“ Excuse me ; Count Louis Saviotti, Mrs. Leonard Gas- 
coigne ; why, I thought you had been introduced before,” 
said Kate innocently. 

“Count Saviotti,” murmured Mrs. Gascoigne, bowing 
low and not looking at him. 

“ I tink,” said the Count suavely, “dat I am much hon- 
aired to have the pleasaire now ; for, like tout le monde, I 
have obsairve before the beautiful Mme. Gascoigne,” bow- 
ing with all the grace of a Frenchman. 

“ You are very kind, sir,” answered Mrs. Gascoigne with 
a look of polite tolerance that made Saviotti grit his teeth in 
anger ; “ certainly. Miss Weston,” she went on, “ we will 
fill out the set for you if you need it. You dance the 
Lancers ? ” consulting her card, “do you not. Dr. Sinclair?” 

The Doctor said carelessly : “ Oh, yes, — when I have to.” 
The last phrase of which was whispered only for Mrs. Gas- 
coigne’s ear. The four walked sedately along the corridor 
to the main drawing-room and took their places for the 
dance. 

“ I always feel that Darwin was right when he said that 
we were descended from monkeys, when I attempt any- 
thing like this,” said Dr. Sinclair, looking at his beautiful 
partner with eyes ablaze, while all the rest of his face was 
motionless. 

“ Do you ?” she said, with a graceful sweep of her fan. 
“ I don’t. I do not think of Darwin at all, I think of Tag- 
lioni and Elsler, those matchless artists of the dance. You 
think there is no art in dancing ?” she said earnestly. “ I 
assure you that the skill and practice and labor — ” 

“ Mille pardons ! Mme. Gascoigne,” said Count Saviotti, 
“ but I tink you have dropped one han-ker-chief ? Est 


52 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


is yours? I tought so. Ce n’est rien,” bowing depre- 
catingly. In this handkerchief Mrs. Gascoigne felt the 
rustle of a piece of paper. Bowing distantly to the French- 
man she said, “ Merci, Monsieur.” 

“You speak French?” said Dr. Sinclair. 

A very little, Richard ; only what I learned at the 
schools ; but,” making an irresistable grimace of mischief, 
“ I thought it would please that poor Frenchman to be 
spoken to in his own language.” 

“ That’s so — poor devil,” said Dr. Sinclair, looking at the 
beautiful woman before him. She smiled with an expres- 
sion on her face that, because he could not read it, held and 
charmed this idle, intellectual man of leisure — and laziness. 
If he had been able to read it ! If he had been able to 
feel the rage, hatred, and spiteful determination hidden 
under those rounded curves ! Carelessly putting away the 
handkerchief with the note into her pocket, Mrs. Gascoigne 
seemed to have not only no thought, but no eyes nor ears 
for any one else but him. Nothing is so flattering as this. 
Let moralists talk as they will ; let preachers preach their 
sermons ; let even lovers and dearest ones say their best 
and holiest words and their dearest and sweetest, there is 
nothing sp absorbing, so sure to interest, as an attention 
that prostrates all before us, and magmfies our small out- 
lines into the grand proportions of the giant or the genius. 
Don’t laugh at us, fellow-fellows, we can’t help it ! We are 
all brethren : and Dr. Sinclair fell under the same spell, the 
olden witchcraft of flattery, and to him that night the only 
person in the room worth talking to was Mrs. Gascoigne. 
He had no eyes, ears, hands, feet, soul or body save for 
her. And she — she flashed and glowed in her triumph, as 
only a beautiful woman, and a woman in love, can flash and 
glow. At times she carelessly wondered what the attrac- 
tion about Kate was, that kept a man like Count Saviotti so 
devoted to her, and then comically came .to the conclusion 
that it was money, of course. But that was not it alto- 
gether. Truly, the Count had sought out Kate and Mr. 
and Mrs. Weston originally because of their reputed wealth, 
but his interest in Kate grew as even a weed will grow, 
when Heaven’s pure rain of blessing falls upon it. Kate’s 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


53 


interest in the Count was a frank and striaghtforward one. 
She liked his ready wit, his lively stories, his graceful com- 
pliments, and his picturesque devotion of manner. At times 
she had a momentary feeling of repulsion toward him, but 
that was only for an instant, and would be dispelled before 
it had any tangible form by some bright anecdote, or 
thoughtful little courtesy. She did wish at times that he 
would not wax the ends of his mustache so ; but taking him 
altogether she liked him, and much preferred his company 
to that of the solemn, red-coated officers, with whom at 
intervals she was obliged to dance. Later on in the course 
of the evening, Mrs. Gascoigne tore some of the lace upon 
her dress. 

“Will you kindly escort me to the next floor, Richard,” 
she whispered. “ I must go to the dressing-room and pin it 
up in some way. 

“ Certainly,” the Doctor answered, “ but you will not be 
long ? ” 

“ Can you think it ? ” she smiled bewitchingly. “ You 
will see.” 

He left her in the upper corridor and waited near the 
stairs until she should return. 

As soon as she was alone in the dressing-room, Mrs. 
Gascoigne eagerly took out the piece of paper that the Count 
had given her, and as she read it, she frowned and bit her 
lips with anger. “ The fool ! What does he think ? ” she 
thought fiercely to herself. She hurriedly pinned up the 
the lace of her dress and hastened back to Dr. Sinclair, for- 
getting in her vexation the bit of paper and leaving it on 
the dressing-table. Two moments afterward Mrs. Weston, 
who frequently repaired to the ladies’ room in the course of 
the evening to be assured that her toilet was all to her taste, 
reached the upper hall also. Just outside the door she ran 
against Count Saviotti, who also had come up to the second 
floor in search of a smoking-room. 

“ Ah! Mme. Wes-ton ? ” he bowed, laying his hand on his 
heart ; “ but you sur-pass yourself dis evening ! I hav nevair 
5een you so angelique — but my poor words cannot express la 
verite ! Allez — allez a votre chambre, and you will find there 
what will speak bettair to you than my poor tongue ! ” 


54 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


“Oh, Count Saviotti !” said Mrs. Weston archly, “how 
can you ?” The Count bowed gallantly and passed along 
his way, while Mrs. Weston, smiling complacently, entered 
the ladies’ dressing-room. Going directly to the bureau, 
she saw upon it a piece of paper, and written in French 
were these words — “A I’Avenue de Cedre, domain matin a 
dix heures. Sans faute!” Not for a moment did she 
doubt but what it was meant for her, and a satisfied smile 
of weak vanity played over her face. “ The foolish, fool- 
ish man ! And I thought he meant the mirror when he 
said that there was something in here that would speak to 
me better than his tongue ? And to think of Henry fear- 
ing that he was getting too much interested in our Kate ! 
When it is me all the time that he admires ! ” She laughed 
a little low laugh to herself and read the note through again. 
“ At Cedar Avenue, to-morrow morning at lo o’clock ! 
‘ Sans faute ! ’ I don’t know what that means, but I guess 
I can find out.” 

Smiling still, she put the note away carefully in her dress- 
pocket, and giving a few caressing touches to her hair, 
reluctantly turned from the mirror and started off down- 
stairs. At the foot of them stood Mr. Weston, Kate and 
Allison. 

“ I thought that you were going to stay up there all 
night,” said Mr. Weston, as she took his arm. 

“ Mamma,” said Kate, “ Colonel Martin has asked us if 
we wont make up a party to-morrow morning and go over 
and see Gibb’s Hill Lighthouse ; can we ? ” 

“ Who does he want to be of the party ? ” and Mrs. 
Weston cautiously. 

“ Why, just us, you know,” said Allison ; “ you and Mr. 
Weston, Kate and I, and Miss Emily and the> Colonel.” 

“Well, to tell the truth, I don’t 4hink that any of us will 
feel equal to the fatigue of starting out on a pleasure trip 
to-morrow morning after being up so late this evening ; and 
you especially, Kate, my child, are not strong, and 1 shall 
insist upon your resting in your room all to-morrow morn- 
ing.” 

“Oh, dear ! ” said Kate disappointedly. 

“ Well never mind, Kate,” said Allison cheerfully, “what 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


55 


difference does it make, anyhow ? That old lighthouse isn’t 
going to walk off, is it ? We can go there any time ; come 
on, this is our waltz, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Kate, and she was hurried off by Fred before 
she had time to think or speculate over her mother’s unusual 
consideration for her welfare. 

A little later, during the interchange of partners in one 
of the square dances. Count Saviotti murmured low to Mrs. 
Gascoigne : “ Voulez vous me rencontrer ? ” 

“ Jamais ! ” answered Mrs. Gascoigne with a smile equally 
as polite as the Count’s own. 

The next time the Count’s hands and her own touched in 
the dance, he said, low, “ Prenez-garde ! ” 

She smiled at him coldly, and said with mock-meekness : 
“ Merci, Monsieur.” She felt so sure of her hold over him, 
both because of her knowledge of his past history, and the 
fact that any disclosure of their relationship on his part 
would interfere with his own plans, that she defied him 
openly. It was sweet to feel the power for once in her own 
hands. 

Occasionally it did come into her mind to wonder why he 
could possibly have wished to see her, but the wonder was 
only fleeting and was not strong enough to induce her to 
meet him as he requested. The Count gritted his teeth 
beneath his curled mustache, but said nothing. 

“I say,” said Allison to Mrs. Weston and Kate, “don’t you 
folks want some refreshments? They’ve got some good 
bouillon and punch and sandwiches in one of those side- 
rooms there. Yes? Come along then; Miss Martin and I are 
going.” The Count was with Kate again, and they all strolled 
along the hall together, following Allison’s suggestions. 

“Oh! Count!” simpered Mrs. Weston, who was ahead, 
turning half around and smiling at him, “Do you know that 
I just adore the beautiful scenery on this Island? I think 
that some of the views here are just too beautiful for any- 
thing ! ” 

“I quite agree with you. Mine. Wes-ton,’’ answered 
Saviotti politely; “c’est bien picturesque ici — it ees vairy 
beautiful.” 

Mr. Weston glanced at his wife a moment, rather amused 


STOLE AMERICA, 


56 

at her sudden interest for the scenery, and said good- 
naturedly to the Count. “Yes, they have got some right 
pretty spots here, you might really call them beautiful — 
that is, to a certain extent, — but they are nothing like some 
things I could show you west of the Mississippi, sir!” 

“I hav ne-vair been in Amerique further than New York, ” 
answered the Count suavely, “and that reminds me of mon 
beau Paris.” 

“Does it?” said Mrs. Weston, “but one tires of the brick 
and mortar of the cities and at times longs to commune with 
Nature. I love to walk amid its beauties,” she finished up 
sentimentally. “There!” she thought to herself, “if that 
doesn’t tell him that I’ll walk on Cedar Avenue at 10 a.m 
to-morrow, he’s duller than I take him to be.” 

. The Count, all unconscious of what was in her mind, 
shrugged his shoulders and said: “Yes! but as for me — I 
love the city bet-tair for a steady thing — the, the — what you 
call it, a I’anglaise? the com-plex-i-ty of the city, suit my 
organism var-y well” 

Kate laughed, one of those natural infectious laughs of 
hers, and. then said: “Just now the sight of a cup of that 
good bouillon would please me better than anything else 
that you could show me!” 

“C’est vrai? Mademoiselle, permettez,” as just then they 
reached the room where the refreshments were, “I go — to — 
seek for you. ” 

Mrs. Weston had been surprised at the Count’s reply to 
her hint, but complacently concluded that it was all right, 
that no doubt he understood, but that probably he answered 
in that fashion so as not to reveal their intended meeting to 
the others. Mrs. Weston was a weak woman and a vain 
one, but not a bad one, and nothing save vanity, pure and 
simple, was in her mind as regarded the Count’s supposed 
admiration for her. She was always having “affairs” of 
this sort, all of which, in due time, were told to her rightful 
lord and master with child-like satisfaction. A woman of 
more brain would have been more cautious, a woman of 
finer feelings would have been unable to get any pleasure 
out of such spurious attentions. But the greatest satisfaction 
of Mrs. Weston’s life was to be interested in just some such 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


57 


thing as this. Probably, by the next day, she would be 
unable to keep it from Mr. Weston any longer, and he, with 
his good-natured common sense, would judge for himself 
whether it was wise for her enjoyment to proceed any further 
or not. He had fequently nipped in the bud little intrigues 
of this sort, when he thought that his wife’s good name 
might be in the slightest way commented upon; and he had 
also frequently allowed the attentions to go on, laughed at 
her innocent vanity, and was rather pleased than otherwise 
that there were other men who thought it worth their while 
to pay his wife compliments. 

Colonel Martin was in the reception-room, and said to 
Kate, as the Count left her, to procure her the bouillon: 

“Miss Weston, are we to have the pleasure of your society 
and your mother’s to-morrow to the light-house?” 

“No,” said Kate ; “Mamma thinks I’ll feel too tired to go; 
and so I suppose I’ll have to see you all start off without me.” 

“But we can’t do without you, Miss Weston, not at all, 
not at all. Mrs. Weston, can’t I persuade you to change 
your mind?” 

‘‘No, not this time,” smiled Mrs. Weston sweetly; “I 
must be careful of my dear child’s health, you know. She 
is so imprudent herself. Some other time, Colonel, we will 
be most happy to be of your party. How strange it is that 
all sorts of gentlemen admire me,” she thought pleasantly. 

“Well, then,” said the Colonel bluntly, “we wont go to- 
morrow. We’ll postpone the trip until we can all go to- 
gether.” 

“Oh, how kind you are!” said Mrs. Weston, tapping him 
archly on the sleeve with her fan. “Are you sure diat will 
be equally convenient for you, my dear Colonel?” 

“Quite so, quite so,” said the Colonel seriously. “Let 
me see, to-day is Monday. How would next Saturday 
answer. I would name an earlier day, but I have duties and 
engagements that prevent my going sooner. Will that suit 
you and Miss Weston?” 

“ Entirely so,” said Mrs. Weston, ‘‘ wont it Kate, my 
dear ? ” 

Kate answered simply “ Yes,” while she musingly looked 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


58 

at the Colonel, and thought what a handsome, fierce old 
soldier he was to be sure. 

Something of her thought must have been expressed in 
her frank young face, for the Colonel relaxed into a smile, 
and bowing, said : “I claim the honor of being Miss Wes- 
ton’s escort on that occasion, if entirely agreeable.” 

Kate smiled back at him and said sweetly, “ Thank you 
Colonel, I. shall be very happy to go with you, I am sure.” 

Allison immediately turned round to Emily, and said : 
“ Will you put yourself under my paternal care. Miss 
Emily ? ” 

Emily smiled a quiet'little smile and said demurely : “ If 
father quite approves.” 

The Colonel nodded, and then Mr. Weston turning to 
his wife, said : “ Well, then, old lady, I don’t see that 
there is anything left but for you and me to pair off together. 
And we don’t make such a bad-looking couple now, 
do we ? ” 

The Count came up just then, and after some bouillon 
and wine had been taken with more or less fun and banter- 
ing, the party separated again. 

Bermudians keep moderate hours. By one o’clock in 
the morning, all were back to their respective home quar- 
ters, and had retired for the night. 

The next morning, by ten, Mrs. Weston strolled alone 
up Cedar Avenue, one of the most beautiful streets upon 
the island. She walked and walked until she grew weary ; 
but no Count Saviotti made his appearance. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

EXTRACT FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF RICHARD SINCLAIR, M.D. 

“ Bermuda . 

“ God knows I am miserable and unhappy. God knows ? 
What am I saying ? I mean that I feel so. Why do I ? I 
am doing what I think is sensible to do ; I am living out 
my most mature convictions. And if that does not bring 
happiness, what will ? Are we altogether the sport of a 
phancp that orders us ? or ar^ wc that unsolvable^ weird 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


59 


mystery, an atom of the universe, a part of an undying 
creation ? In time will we reach the majestic marvel of 
real responsibility ! What am I trying to say — trying to 
write out my feeble flickerings of a future faith ? That 
were lost time, indeed ; for 1 have no faith that I know of. 
I only have a deep despair, a horrible feeling that all life is 
but the maddening misery of fiendish frolic. Oh ! I ache 
for every soul — my spirit yearns over all I see. My mind 
hungers and thirsts, the pathos of living breaks my courage. 

“ That girl Kate Weston interests me. She is so honest. 
She has not yet learned the ways of her world — curious, too, 
that, for she must be nearly twenty years old. 

“I find that even I am not reckless enough to commit 
myself to paper. I thought I was. I thought I should feel 
so free in writing these notes, that I would put down not 
only my best hopes and fears but my worst ones ! I find 
that I don’t. In spite of myself, I see that I only write 
what is so general that even my enemy could not trump up 
a specific charge against me, if he had these notes in his 
hands. I have been writing for an audience, when I 
thought I was doing just the reverse. I will write no more; 
what good does it do ? If I put down the truth, I would 
be a fool ; and if I do not, I should be an idiot. In either 
case, silence is best.” 

The town of St. George’s in Bermuda was formerly the 
business town of the place, but later on, Hamilton was 
chosen as the capital, owing to its more central location on 
the main island. This seems a pity, as its harbor is much 
better than the approach to Hamilton. During the late war, 
St. George’s was the one spot where congregated all the 
blockade-runners, and then the town was alive and stirring, 
and every inch of it was valuable. 

With the war ended its glory, and now the grass grows in 
its narrow lanes, and the only signs of life it shows is when 
some unlucky vessel is wrecked upon its northern shore by 
the outstretching coral reefs below the waves, that stab in 
the dark and send many a gallant ship to its end. When- 


6o 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


ever there happens one of these terrible disasters, it is 
always a source of interest to all upon the Island. 

“ Did you know,” said Allison to Mrs. Weston and Kate 
a few days after the “ Dance ” at the “ Hamilton,” as they 
were out for a morning stroll, “ that there was a ship wrecked 
at St. George’s night before last? Yes, there was, and it 
was loaded with oil, too.” 

“ Any lives lost,” said Kate. 

“ No, all saved, they say, but there are at least two hun- 
dred, counting in the deck-hands, that havn’t a cent to their 
names, and only the clothes they escaped with.” 

“ Poor things ! ” cried Kate, “ how dreadful ! What is 
going to be done for them ? Can’t the Governor help them ?” 

“ Now, Kate, how you talk ! ” said Mrs. Weston, petu- 
lantly, “ as if the dear Governor hasn’t got enough to do, 
taking care of his own poor, without being burdened with 
strangers ! Charity begins at home, I say,” complacently 
smoothing down some lace at her throat. “ You can’t take 
all the world on your shoulders, no matter how willing you 
may be.” 

“ Yes, I know,” said Kate, “ but this seems to me particu- 
larly hard.” 

“ Oh, yes, Kate,” said Allison, looking at her adoringly, 
they’ve been helped. Lots of good people at St. George’s 
took them in, and they’re going to get up a subscription at 
the hotels here, too, for them. Some of the sailors have 
been sent here to Hamilton, and have already been given 
work on the vessels. The Trhiidad is going to take on 
some of them.” 

“ Well, do you know,” said Kate, “ I thought I noticed an 
unusual number of sailors on the street to-day.” 

“Yes,” nodded Allison, “and they’re pretty rough cus- 
tomers, too, some of them,” as a group just then passed by, 
laughing and swearing. “ However, poor wretches, they 
couldn’t stand the life unless they were pretty tough, I 
guess. Straight down this way, Mrs. Weston ; this goes to 
the Royal Palms.” 

Soon they reached those five wonders, towering and 
majestic, like gray granite piles, with a green garden at the 
top of each, Mrs, Weston^^ Kate, and Fred stood and 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


6r 


looked at them for a few seconds in silence ; then Allison, 
who was never known to keep quiet for ten consecutive 
seconds, said, innocently : 

“ Was it Mark Twain, or some other American poet, who 
said they looked like big giants with sore throats ? ” 

“Oh, Fred !” said Kate, turning away half amused and 
half in disgust ; “ can’t you ever be serious about any- 
thing ? ” 

“Well, what have I said now?” queried Allison. “Seems 
to me that you don’t do me justice, Kate. When I do get 
sort of up-in-the-clouds-like, and get off some poetical com- 
parison, you seem to think I’m funning ! That isn’t quite 
square, is it, Mrs. Weston ?” 

But Mrs. Weston was looking the other way. No beauty 
of nature, of sea or land, ever held her attention like the 
glimpse of a fellow-being. And coming along in grand 
style was one of the finest turnouts upon the island. For- 
tunately, she knew them, and with the ready courtesy of 
the native Bermudians, they stopped their horses and cor- 
dially invited her to take the one vacant seat yet unoccu- 
pied. She accepted, of course, and Kate and Allison were 
left together. They walked along a short distance, and 
then Kate, who had grown strangely tired of Allison’s inces- 
sant chatter and never-failing spirits of late, turned about 
to go home. 

When they reached the “ Princess ” once more, she got 
rid of him, as only a clever girl can, and he never imagined 
that he was not wanted. 

Late that afternoon, just before dinner, Kate, all dressed 
in white, for the day was sunny and warm, thought she 
would like to take a stroll by herself up the road. She 
looked unusually fair and sweet, and in honor of the even- 
ing, which was to be celebrated by a concert in the hotel 
parlors, she had dressed herself more elaborately than 
usual, putting on some jewels, which she rarely wore. 

The hotel parlors, hall, and piazzas at that hour were 
deserted, as she passed through them. The solitary clerk 
in the office looked the picture of lonesomeness and patience. 
She spoke a pleasant word to him as she went by, and then 
passed out, going up the road. She walked on and on, 


62 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


meeting no one. And still she walked on — out, toward the 
beautiful west, as the sun went down, meeting no one. And 
she had that sense of freedom that all souls have when they 
feel that no eye is upon them, Even with our nearest and 
dearest, we are not quite ourselves. A feeling of conscious- 
ness, a sense of being mirrored in some way, adjudged, if 
not criticised, keeps us from being quite our lone selves. A 
feeling of exhilaration, of folly, swept over her, and seeing 
no one in sight, she ran and skipped in a most undignified 
manner. Then she stopped, picked a cactus blossom from 
the wayside, and talked to it aloud ; “ You queer thing — 
you beauty, born of bristles — I don’t want you ; you look 
stiff.” 

A little way further, and then she sat down upon a part 
of the stone wall. She crossed her feet and kicked them 
back and forth. “ How queerly we dress when we think we 
are fixed up fine,” she said, and her dainty kid shoes looked 
new to her, as if she saw them for the first time. 

“ How strange it is to be really alone ! Ho-ee, ho-ee, 
hoo-ee ! ” calling aloud and stopping the call by placing 
her hand over her mouth at every second. Only the echoes 
answered her, and the birds singing busily away among the 
cedars. 

“ Oh ! I like to be by myself ! ” she said aloud again, and 
her voice seemed strange to her own ears, and she repeated 
the sentence again, just to see how it would sound. “ Let 
me see. I think I’ll recite something. Wish I could re- 
member part of Lucy Larcon’s ‘ Bermoothes.’ That would 
suit me just now. But I can’t.” She stood on the top of a 
hill by this time and looked back and before her, and not a 
sign of human life save herself, was in view. Then she 
hummed a weird, half-sad strain to herself, improvising : 

Child of the ocean! Isle o^ the sea! 

Fairer than fairest thou art to me. 

Kissed by thy Mother, loved by her sighs, 

Covered and brooded by bluest of skies ! 

She rambled on and on, until at last the sky and the trees 
seemed grayer and softer, and then she discovered that the 
sun must b? getting lower and that it was time for her to 
return. ^ - 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


63 


Just then, coming from a side pathway, she heard foot- 
steps ; it was all so still, they sounded very distinct. She 
waited a moment, and then, slouching along with an uncer- 
tain gait was one of the sailors that she had seen down 
town in the morning. Instinctively she shrank from meet- 
ing him and hurried a little upon her way. But he had 
caught a glimpse of her and was just in the mood to be 
troublesome. 

“ Hey there, my blossom ! What’s yer hurry ? ” he called 
after her. 

Kate only hastened her steps. 

“Hey there, I say! Ship ahoy! But just wait, my 
beauty,” catching up to her, and taking hold of her arm ; 
“ What’s yer hurry ? ” 

“ Let me go, please ! ” said Kate, very pale, very much 
frightened, but still speaking bravely. 

“ Oh, no, not yet awhile,” said the man, leering with 
drunken admiration at her flushing face and pretty dress, — 
“ not yet ; where did you get the sparklers ! ” pointing to 
the diamonds in her ears and at her throat. “ Them’s just 
the sort o’ glass I likes. Give ’em to me ? ” 

“ Let me go ! ” said Kate, desperately, struggling with all 
her strength to get away from him. “ Let me go, I say ! ” 

“ Not till 1 gits good and ready, my dear. It isn’t often 
I gits such a bloomin’ chance as this. Hold on a minit,” 
striving to hold both her wrists with one hand. 

“ Help, help, help ! ” shouted Kate as loud as she could 
cry — still struggling with all her might. 

“ D — n you,” said the man, undoing a rope he wore 
around his waist as a belt, “ ITi fix you.” In a moment he 
tied her two hands behind her back, and then pulling her 
toward a small cedar tree, fastened the rope around it. 

“ Help ! Help ! 0-o-h ! Help ! ” screamed Kate wildly. 
No help was near. The wind sighed gently through the 
dark cedar-trees ; a late bird, on its homeward way, whistled 
a spray of song, and that was all. So quiet, so warm, so 
still, so beautiful — so hopeless in its silence ! Oh, why 
was no one near ? 

“ Help ! ” cried Kate, again. 

“ Now, shut up that, will you ? I aint a-goin’ to hurt 


64 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


yer, if yer behaves yerself. There ! ” wrenching her dia- 
mond pin out from the neck of her dress and holding it up 
to the light. “ Them’s the sort ! Now hold still, can’t 
you ! ” striving to take the ear-rings from her ears. 

“ I — will — not ! ” panted Kate, desperately moving her 
head from side to side ; “ you shall not have them ! ” 

‘‘ I wont, hey ? We’ll see about that, my beauty ! Hold 
still, I say ! ” 

Suddenly, in the midst of her terror and despair, Kate 
caught a glimpse, a long way down the road, of a man, 
walking slowly, with bowed head, evidently in deep thought. 
The feeling of relief was so great that for the moment she 
almost lost consciousness. The sailor seized the instant of 
quietness to secure one of the ear-rings. While he was 
examining it, she still saw the same figure in. deep reverie, 
walking slowly toward them. A second longer, and she 
recognized Count Saviotti. Suddenly she made up her 
mind that this wretch of a thief should not escape. Instantly 
it flashed through her brain to keep him with his back 
toward the road as long as possible, ignorant that any one 
was near. 

“ You shall not have the other one,” she said, gritting her 
teeth. 

“ Is that so ? ” laughing a long, coarse laugh of derision. 

“ No ! ” said Kate, while to her relief she saw the figure 
down the road, lift its head as if listening. And Count 
Saviotti was listening. He had heard the laugh. Hur- 
rying on, he caught sight of two indistinct figures and 
heard the murmur of excited words. Still hurrying, com- 
ing nearer, at last he saw that one of them was Kate ! 
Like a hound now he sprang over the way, and reached 
them before the man had heard a sound. Turning at last, 
he saw his danger, and started to run. 

Like a beast of prey, the Count sprang upon him. One 
blow from his strong fist and the man fell to the ground 
unconscious. 

“ Oh, Miss Weston ! Aire you hurt ? Le mechant ! ” 
while with trembling hands he untied the rope from off her 
wrists. “ Non ? Oh, ma chere Mademoiselle ! Le dia- 
ble ! ” kicking the unconscious sailor with his foot. “ Que 


STOLEN- AMEEICA. 65 

vous fait-il ! Oh, Mees Weston ! ” unconsciously stroking 
her hands, and looking tenderly at her pale face. 

“ Oh, Count ! ” gasped Kate, “I’m so glad you came — 
he — he — I’m all right — not at all hurt. He took my pin 
and ear-ring, you see, and — and — I was frightened — that is 
all.” 

“ De brute ! ” said the Count, giving him another decided 
kick, “ how lucky, I up this way the good fortune have to 
be ! Mais il est le diable ! Ah ! here ees your pin and 
ear-ring, les bijoux,” picking them up off the ground, “ here, 
Mademoiselle.” 

Just then the wretch at their feet stirred slightly. “Oh, 
I wonder if he is hurt,” said Kate, pityingly. 

“ Non ! ” exclaimed the Count savagely ; “ only stunned, 
de brute. Ha ! I feex him,” taking the rope that had 
bound poor Kate and tying his two ankles together with it. 
“ Dere ! Now he not run off like de hare — so ! ” 

Just then the rumble of a wagon was heard, and a negro 
voice singing sweetly a hymn that was a favorite on the 
Island : 

“ Have mercy, Lord ! we pray to Thee, 

For those in peril, on the sea ! ” 

and coming from the same cross-road as the sailor himself 
had made his appearance, was David, driving an empty 
quarry wagon. 

“ Bress de Lord ! ” he cried. “ You, Miss Kate ! and one 
of dose water-dogs ! What de matter, sah ? ” jumping out 
and coming to them in haste. “ Is he hurt, sah ? ” 

“Non ! ” said the Count ; “ he is one-big-villain ! He try 
to rob Mademoiselle, here — but, ah ! I stop him — so ! ” 

“ Tryin’ to rob Miss Kate ! De low-down common white- 
trash ! Jes let me get hoi’ of him, sah ! ” cried David, pre- 
paring to do battle. 

“ No, David ! ” said Kate, “ don’t touch him, I’m all right 
now, and he is safe, thanks to Count Saviotti, here, who 
came up just in time. I am not hurt, but I am afraid he is, 
poor man — he don’t seem to come to at all,” bending over 
him anxiously. 

“ Excuse me. Miss Kate,” said David, taking her gently 


66 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


but firmly by the arm, “ but you jess leave him to dis yere 
gentleman and me. It’s not suitable dat a lady like you, 
Miss Kate, see to him,” and with the grace and courtesy of a 
Chesterfield, he authoritatively put Kate aside. 

“ I have it ! ” cried the Count. “ You help me, and we 
put him in your cart and carry him to de jail — so ! with his 
feet and his hands tied, so he cannot slip away.” 

“Dat’s so, sah,” nodded David, taking hold of him not over 
gently. 

“Oh, be careful, David! Don’t hurt him — for my sake.” 
said Kate. “I’m afraid he’s seriously wounded.’’ 

“Not him. Miss Kate,’’ answered David. “Tain’t so 
easy to kill his kind. Don’t you worry your bressed heart 
ober him.’’ 

Together the Count and he got the man in and laid him 
in the bottom of the wagon. 

“I take him to de jail, sah,’’ nodded David, proud and 
delighted over his charge, “all safe.’’ 

“Bien!’’ said the Count. “Later I find myself dere also, 
to testify against him ; mais I see Mademoiselle all safe back 
to de hotel, first, vous savez.’’ 

“Yes, sah!’’ said David emphatically; “and I ’se berry 
much obliged to you, sah,’’ taking off his old hat respectfully. 

The Count bowed graciously, and then turned to Kate 
with a smile. 

David took his seat, took up the reins, and spoke to his 
mules: “Go on, sah! hi dere! Git along!’’ 

The sailor in the wagon came to, as the cart jolted, and 
after a momentary struggle managed to sit upright. 

“Darn your eyes ! let me out of this,’’ he cried. 

“Don’t worry yerself, sah,’’ answered David with mock 
politeness, “you’se gwine to have a nice drive to a fine 
house, sah. Hope you’se enjoyin yerself, sah!’’ chuckling 
with delight. 

The man looked back, rage and hate stamped upon his 
face. Suddenly he said slowly: “Duquette — by — the — 
Lord!’’ 

“What’s dat you remark, sah?’’ said David. 

But the man never answered, only strained his head and 
neck, looking backwards as long as Kate and the Count 


STOLEN AMERICA. 67 

were in sight. He was sobered now, and evidently much 
excited. 

“Who’s that back there?’’ he said. 

“Dat? dat’s Miss Kate Weston, and don’t you think dat 
you’se gwine to get scot free after insultin’ her, you low 
down lubber!’’ said David angrily; “you good-for-nothing 
white-fish you ! 

“I don’t mean her. I means him.’’ 

“Dat gentleman? Dat’s Count Saviotti — who cracked 
your precious head for you, sah,’’ said David with a grin. 

“The devil he is,’’ muttered the man to himself. 

“Don’t swear, sah,’’ said David — “tisn’t proper, sah,’’ 
with another chuckle, “de best society doan’ low dat, sah.’’ 

‘ ‘ D — h you, ’ ’ said the sailor — ‘ ‘if 1 had a grip on yer black 
neck, I’d — ’’ ^ 

“Doan’ ’sturb yourself, sah, ’taint no sort of use,’’ grinned 
David pleasantly. 

The man subsided, after a little, resigning himself with 
dogged sullenness to the inevitable. The cart rattled and 
jolted along with its unusual contents, David alternately sing- 
ing hymns and cracking jokes by the way, until they reached 
the town, where with much pride and satisfaction he handed 
over his charge to the proper authorities. 

Count Saviotti and Kate reached the hotel a little late for 
dinner, and many and loud were the exclamations from all 
sides when Kate’s little adventure was told. 

“Oh, my dear child! how very dreadful!’’ said Mrs. 
Weston. “And did he actually take the pin from your 
dress? I shall be afraid to take a step alone now unless 
some gentleman is with me!’’ 

“Oh, Kate!’’ said Allison tremblingly, “to think of it 
being you.” 

“I never heard of such a thing occurring before on the 
Island. Did you, father?” said Emily to the Colonel. 

“Not at all — not at all,” said the Colonel excitedly, “and 
I’ll go right down now and see about it. It’s an outrage 
and a disgrace to us, sir, and I shall see to it that the mis- 
creant is properly punished.” 

“I am goin dere — myself, to — tell — what I see,” said 
Count Saviotti, bearing himself modestly, although he was 


6 ^ 


STOLEN AMEklCA. 


the hero of the hour; “I can tes-ti-fy, ees not that vote you 
say, Col-o-nel? 

“Yes, sir; yes, sir,” said the old soldier, the ready flush 
mounting up in his face. “Just wait until I get my hat, 
sir.” 

They disappeared together, and Kate was surrounded by 
half the hotel, while she had to tell the affair all over again, 
and of the opportune appearance and bravery of the Count. 
After a little Mr, Weston noticed that -she looked rather pale, 
and going to her he said, quietly: “Kate, my dear. Dr. Sin- 
clair here says that you had better go up and lie down for 
an hour or so, or you’ll be sick to-morrow.” 

Feeling unaccountably weak and nervous, Kate smiled 
faintly, and rose up at once obediently. Mr, Weston saw 
her upstairs to her room, which was a very unusual attention 
on his part, Mrs. Weston remained in the parlor to still 
further exclaim over the event to a group of eager listeners. 

As Mr. Weston left Kate at her door he said, and his voice 
was a trifle husky, — “There Kate, my dear — there? Lie 
down now — lie down now.” Kate kissed him, clung round 
his neck a little and then went inside. 

Half an hour later Mr. Weston and Dr. Sinclair were 
chatting together in the smoking-room. 

“Oh, of course it was very brave of him,” said Mr. Weston 
discontentedly; “but another man would have done as 
much.” 

“Of course,” nodded the Doctor; “but he was the fortun- 
ate one.” 

“I wish it had been any one else!” said Mr. Weston. 

“Why?” said the Doctor. “You don’t seem to like the 
Count. Mr. Weston, why don’t you? He’s very clever, I 
think.” 

“Clever? well yes, he is; that is, to a certain extent. But 
do you know. Doctor Sinclair,” said Mr. Weston, con- 
fidentially, “I never could like a man who pointed with his 
thumb over his shoulder when he wanted to be especially 
believed?” 

“No? Can’t you?” said the Doctor, amused. 

“No, I can’t,” answered Mr. Weston emphatically. 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


69 


CHAPTER IX. 

As Colonel Martin and Count Saviotti walked down 
Front Street together on their way to the jail, a stranger 
would have said that they could not have anything in com- 
mon, not even a single impulse, and yet at that very moment 
both were filled with the same strong desire, — to wring the 
neck of the man who had dared lay hand on Kate. 

“ I shall nevair,” said the Count, talking rapidly, “ be 
thankful enough dat I happen that road up to be ! De 
brute — le diable ! ” 

“ I can’t see,” answered the old Colonel, puffing with 
rapid walking, “ how Miss Kate happened to walk so far, 
quite by herself, don’t you know.” 

“Ah ! ” shrugged the Frenchman, “ dat is very easy to 
see ! Mademoiselle Weston — love Nature — love all de 
beautiful. She hav de imagination of de poet — she dream — 
she love de blue water — de birds — de woods. She love to 
wandair all alone. Pauvre ange ! ” 

“ That’s so, sir, that’s so,” assented the Colonel, feeling 
for once a certain respect for “ Frenchy,” as he agreed with 
his own sentiments ; “ but I can’t say that I approve of the 
American custom that allows young ladies quite such dan- 
gerous freedom.” 

“ Oui !” exclaimed the Count, “you aire right ! It ees 
very dangerous — cette liberte.” 

They came presently to their destination, where, after a 
short parley with one in authority, they entered the square 
room in which temporary shelter was given to those under 
the ban of their fellow-man. 

The sailor, one Sam Jones by name, an^English rough of 
the lowest order, now completely sober,* with all his wits 
about him, was waiting his doom with repressed eagerness. 
As Colonel Martin and Count Saviotti entered, one of the 
town officers said — “Here he is, sirs.- Now which of you 
gentlemen saw this cur assault the young lady ? ” 

“Count Saviotti — allow me, Mr. Jenkins,” said the Colo- 
nel pompously. 

The Count gracefully raised his hat, acknowledging the 
introduction, and as he held it in his hand bowed and said : 


70 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“ I had that plaisir, sir— or rather, I had the agony of see- 
ing la profanation. Mais, I had also the honair of knocking 
de dog down.” 

The sailor scowled under his matted hair, and gave a sort 
of grunt. 

“ He had,” went on the Count vindictively, “ Mademoi- 
selle Weston tied, — tied to a tree, Monsieur, avec un rope 
about her fair hands ! It was abominable ! execrable ! 
detestable ! Nothing is too bad for de villain ! I entreat 
you. Monsieur, to punish him to de full penalty of de law ? ” 

“ I suppose his idea was theft } ” said the officer, looking 
important. 

“ Ah ? Mais oui — oui — certainement. He, les diamants 
wished to have. Already he had take les bijoux, when I 
stop him — so ! ” 

“ I see,” replied the officer gravely. 

A'll this time Jones had been rapidly going over in his 
mind the points of his own case. He saw that the Count 
did not recognize him, but he also saw that he must make 
him do so. This he wished to do without “a-showin’ of his 
hand,” as he put it to himself. He first tried to attract his 
attention by brushing his tangled hair up off his forehead, 
but that was unsuccessful. Then he began to talk, think- 
ing that perhaps his voice would say for him what he did 
not dare to put into words. 

“Don’t be hard on a bloke that’s down. Governor. I had 
a drop too much or hi never would a done it.’’ 

As he spoke the Count stirred uneasily, the voice puz- 
zling him like some long-forgotten memory, but he couldn’t 
place him. 

“That’s no excuse,” broke in Colonel Martin sternly. 
“What is the law in such a case, Jenkins?” 

“Well, as long as the goods were recovered, Colonel, I’m 
not quite sure. Six months in limbo, and the cost, I think 
sir.” 

“Your Honor,” broke in the sailor again, “hi never afore 
raised my nibs to grab. Allers worked square and honest. 
But when a man’s in his cups, he sometimes does a mean 
job. Let me hoff this once, and I swear hi’ll never do such 
dirty work agin.” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 7t 

“Mais non!” laughed the Count sarcastically, “I do not 
tink dat you vill! Ha! Ha!” 

Over Jones’s face came an ugly look, and he was just 
about to say what would have startled them all, when sud- 
denly he thought of something. He smiled and said indif- 
ferently: “Hi am sorry that you won’t let easy on a poor 
bloke that’s down.” Then be began to sing. 

‘ ‘ Where’eer I go — where’eer I be — 

Me heart is true to Poll.' ” 

Then he waited a second, and added three times: 

“ Caw! Caw! Caw! ” 

“You infernal scoundrel!” exclaimed Colonel Martin, 
boxing him over the ears, “don’t you dare sing in here! 
The impudence of the villain! I hope the judge will give 
you six years instead of six months,” he said angrily. 

But Count Saviotti had turned pale with fear — fear that 
made him numb and cold. He recognized, by the song and 
words, a sign of need known only to himself and his mates 
in the chain-gang where he had served two years as a con- 
vict in an English prison fifteen years before. He knew at 
once now, that the man before him held his honor, his free- 
dom, perhaps his very life in his hands. With a quickness 
lent him by despair, he rallied to the emergency. “What — 
what is that — you zay — now I come to think : that you too 
much have drink?” he stammered. 

“Yes, sir,” put in the man eagerly, “that’s what I said. 
Give a feller a chance. I hain’t never been took up like 
this afore. Allers served good afore the mast and minded 
captain’s orders. Speak a word for me, itiateC' He added 
this last word, as it were, unconsciously, but it sunk deep 
into the Count’s heart. 

“Officaire,” he said nervously, moistening his dry lips 
and trying to appear natural; “pair-haps ve are too hasty 
in our judgment; as this poor devil zay, he vas in his cups. 
Pair-haps — some allowance might be made for that — a — 
raison. Now I tink of it, I am sure that Mademoiselle 
Weston would vish that we be not too severe upon him, and 
we giv him, as he zay, one more chance. Do you not tink, 


n 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


Colonel Martin, dat Mees Weston would vish dat, eef she 
vas here?” 

‘‘Possibly, sir,” said the Colonel sternly; ‘‘but I do 
not think this is a case for a young girl’s mercy, but a 
time for just punishment. To my mind, he deserves all 
that .the law can measure out to him.” 

‘‘Well,” interrupted Jenkins, ‘‘we haven’t got the settling 
of that point; that will be settled in court. We shall 
require your presence, Count, to-morrow at ten o’clock, to 
testify as a witness; David Jackson (colored) will also be on 
hand, and the young lady of course, will be present herself.” 

‘‘Ah!” exclaimed the Count, a ray of hope dawning 
across his horizon, ‘‘Ah! that I doubt. It ees so very 
unpleasant for a lady — de court- room.” 

‘‘Well,” said Jenkins in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘‘if the 
young lady don’t appear, nor press the case, he’ll get off 
light enough.” 

‘‘Will you be so kind, sir,” put in Jones with mock 
humility to the Count, ‘‘to beg the young lady to think that 
it’s my first offense, sir, if hi may make so bold as to hask 
you, sir. And tell her as ’owif she’ll not, be hard on a poor 
bloke as is down, that hi ’ll pray for ’er allers, sir.” 

Colonel Martin turned away in disgust. ‘‘I really can’t 
stay and listen to .such stuff, you know,” he growled out to 
Jenkins. ‘‘Good-evening; good-evening, Count Saviotti.” 

‘‘Ah! you are in a great hurry, Colonel. Good-evening. 
I will ‘ see you la-taire, sair, ’ ” bowing politely. 

Good Colonel Marin stamped the floor in righteous indig- 
nation, growling to himself as he went out. ‘‘Those fools 
of Frenchmen.” 

A soon as he was out of the room, Count Saviotti felt 
himself quite equal to the blind and unsuspecting Jenkins. 

‘‘You have a very ’onerous position here, Monsieur,” he 
said politely, ‘‘aire you not veary sometimes?” 

‘‘Well, yes,” admitted Jenkins, ‘‘It’s quite a bore.” 

‘‘Vill you not accept one cigar. Monsieur,” handing him 
one out of his own pocket. ‘‘I vill stay here wif de prisoner 
vile you go out and rest a little.” 

“ Thanks, don’t mind if I do stretch a bit ; but I wont go 
outside you know, that’s against regulations, but I’ll just 


STOLEN' AMERICA. 


73 


step out in the hall and stretch my legs a bit — if you’ll see 
that he don’t try to jump that window. Not that it would 
do him any good,” he added, puffing at the weed, “ for 
there’s a guard outside there. He wouldn’t go far.” He 
walked out of the room yawning and stretching as he went. 

Count Saviotti wasted no time. “ I vill get you out of 
dis ! ” he whispered hurriedly to the sailor. 

Jones leered at him with low cunning in his eyes. 

“ Yes, that’s habout what I reckoned on, but you was 
damned slow cornin’ to time,” he said sulkily. 

“ I did not recognize you, Sam ! ” protested the Count 
eagerly, “vraiment — I not know you vif — your — new — 
adornments ! ” pointing to his shaggy hair and beard. 

“ Humph,” grunted the man, relaxing into a grin, “that’s 
a lark ! Hif you what hav slep and eat wid me for two 
years don’t know me, wot’ll me mammy say ? ” 

“ Hush-sh ! ” warned the Count excitedly, “not zo loud, 
not zo loud ! ” 

“Isay, Duquette,” bullied the man coarsely, “ what’s 
your lay in these parts ? What’s hup ? ’ 

“ Not-ting ! I no plans hav ! ” answered the Count ; “ I 
vill not stay here long, dere is nothing here,” shrugging his 
shoulders. “ De Island ees poor — except for a few game 
wif de Americans sometime, here is nothing ! I not stay 
here long time.” 

“ Oh,” grunted his companion, “no strike, hey?” 

“ Non — non. Mais I vill de lady see for you, Zam, and 
I vill pay your fines and try and get de judge to pairmit 
you on the Ormoco to sail to the United States. Vill dat 
to your satisfaction be ? ” 

“ You bet ! ” said Jones — “ only give me some of the brass 
to remember you by. 

“ Where ’eer I go, where’eer I be. 

My heart is true to Poll ! 

Caw ! Caw ! Caw ! ” 

he sang maliciously. Count Saviotti bit his tongue to keep 
back the words that he longed to speak, then rising he 
walked up and down the room, up and down restlessly. 

Presently in came Jenkins, and after a few words more 
of pleasant chat with him, accomplished in the Count’s 


74 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


usual suave polite manner, he said “ Good-evening,” leav- 
ing behind him innocent Jenkins and the brute Jones, both 
equally well-satisfied with his visit. 

“ Nice gentlemanly Frenchman that,” said Jenkins to 
his charge, good-naturedly. 

Jones stared for a second ; then something tickling his 
sense of humor, he burst into a great guffaw of laughter, 
and, nodding his shaggy mane, said coarsely : 

“ You bet ! A damned nice Frenchman ! ” 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Four days later. Count Saviotti had the extreme satisfac- 
tion of seeing his quondam room-mate Jones smile from 
over the side of the steamer Orinoco, shipped as a second- 
class passenger to the United States. Money, and a polite 
manner, and a specious tongue, backed by a desperate 
determination, will accomplish wonders. As the great 
steamer glided majestically out of Hamilton Harbor, many 
were the handkerchiefs that were waved to friends on deck, 
and many the “ good-bys ” shouted; but none waved as 
gracefully as the Count, nor called out their farewells as 
merrily. 

But perhaps none had just such a friend as he on board. 


CHAPTER X. 

That Count Saviotti had failed to keep his appointment 
with her that morning on Cedar Avenue at ten o’clock, had 
in no way caused Mrs. Weston to lose faith in her own 
powers nor in his subjection. With that sublimity of vanity 
that is beyond even the thought of an intentional slight, she 
never once dreamed that he had forgotten it, not she ; but 
complacently settled the whole matter entirely to her own 
satisfaction. She treated the Count even more graciously 
than ever, not suspecting that the many compliments he 
paid her were but so much small coin intended to pay his 
way into her good favor, solely on Kate’s account. 

That Colonel Martin as well as the Count found an attrac- 
tion in Kate far beyond their interest in herself, she never 
for one moment imagined, but it was a fact, a,nd was daily 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


75 


growing more patent to everybody save Mrs. Weston. With 
sweet imbecility she went on imagining meanings where 
iiaught was intended, and fancying fondness where none 
existed. And Kate, who was as wanting in vanity, as her 
mother was the reverse, she also never dreamed the truth. 
Count Saviotti she liked, because he amused her, and had 
that charm of all Frenchmen, that he was never monoton- 
ous. Colonel Martin she regarded as a sort of second 
father, and would have laughed heartily had anyone sug- 
gested to her the possibility of any nearer or dearer relation- 
ship. But both the Count and Colonel Martin found out, 
each in their different way, that this natural, girlish young 
American was in some unaccountable manner absorbing all 
their leisure moments, and filling in their dreams of the 
future, when she was personally absent from them. With 
quick intuitive generous sympathy, Kate seemed to bring to 
the surface the very best in each of them. The Count never 
shone, sparkled, or scintillated as brightly, as when Kate’s 
sweet, alive, wide-awake face was turned toward him. And 
as for Colonel Martin, never had he appeared so manly, so 
good, so simply the brave old soldier that he was, until 
Kate’s inspiring, fair faith in him shone out from her 
honest, young gray eyes. And it did not help these ad- 
miring, rather elderly lovers either, to see that Kate was 
gradually being appreciated by all sorts and conditions of 
mankind. 

Young Allison was a perpetual thorn in their sides, for he 
had the advantage of an older acquaintance of long stand- 
ing. And there were the young red-coated officers from the 
barracks, who somehow seemed to be ever crowding near 
her. Not to mention Dr. Sinclair, whose attentions, 
although but spasmodic, were sufficiently marked at times 
to set their tempers on edge, and their teeth to gritting 
togetlier. He was a man of wealth and renown ; not so 
very old, and then he had an odd way of talking at times, 
that seemed to interest Kate beyond anything they could 
say or do. Added to these definite forms of positive atten- 
tions, were the stray ones that came from other quarters, 
consequent upon her being the only daughter of John Wes-, 
ton, rnillionaire. 


76 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


Kate took it all, as she did the fresh air and the sunshine, 
with unaffected delight ; and as she did not mark down any 
one day in the week as being more gloriously beautiful than 
another, neither did she consider for a moment that the 
pleasure she enjoyed from an hour’s chat with the Doctor 
was at all different from an evening’s devotion from the 
Count, or some little simple home kindness from Colonel 
Martin. Such seemingly blind impartiality was aggravating, 
but it had this compensation ; no one individual could feel 
himself slighted, neither could any given person presume 
that he was particularly favored. 

A few days after Kate’s adventure with the sailor, the 
Colonel had the satisfaction of saying politely to Count 
Saviotti : “ I regret very much, my dear sir, that our 
accommodations can’t accommodate you, but really, you 
know, there isn’t room.” 

“ Mais, Coho-nel, vous avez trop de bonte ! ” exclaimed 
the Count politely. “ I shall the plaisir have perhaps 
another time.” 

It was the Saturday arranged for their trip to Gibb’s 
Hill Lighthouse, and Colonel Martin had secured a four- 
seated barouche for Mr. and Mrs. Weston, Allison and his 
daughter Emily, while Kate and himself were to ride in a 
single carriage — that had but seating-room for two, besides 
the driver. 

The Count smiled rather cynically, as he viewed this 
innocent arrangement. “ C’est dommage — c’est une grande 
pitie, that you cannot all together be; you will perhaps be 
lonesome ? ” he said. 

“No, indeed!” said Kate brightly, “we’ll drive right 
behind the others, and besides. Colonel Martin and I have 
lots to talk about, haven’t we ?” 

“ Of course we have,” assented the Colonel heartily. 

The Count smiled, raised his hat above his carefully 
brushed head, and said graciously : “ Adieu ! I will try to 
exist until you return. Mais,” shrugging his shoulders — 
“ it will hard work be. Le bon Dieu will have to aid me ! 
Adieu ! ” 

Kate laughed and nodded, but as they drove off. Colonel 
Martin grumbled ; “ The Devil will help you, I fancy ! 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


77 


What fools these Frenchmen are, Miss Kate. They never 
talk sense like other people.” 

“ But I like their nonsense,” answered Kate brightly. 
“ They exaggerate to be sure, but it is all in so graceful and 
poetical a way that it quite charms me.” 

“ Bless my soul ! ” ejaculated the Colonel in simple won- 
der, “ does it now ? ” And he looked at the pretty girlish 
face turned so laughingly to his, and thought, — and then 
sighed heavily. 

Kate’s eyes danced with the sparkle of youth and the 
freshness of early morning. 

“ How far is it to the Lighthouse,” she said, as the car- 
riage rolled along over the smooth road. 

“ About six miles and a half, or thereabouts,” answered 
the Colonel. “It is on the top of Gibb’s Hill, you know. 
Ah ! there you can catch a glimpse of it.” 

“ Oh yes, I see ! ” said Kate. “ Has it been there long ?” 

“ Well, really now, 1 can’t say. Before I was stationed 
here, it was there ; still for all that I fancy it’s not 
been standing so very long. It cost over ;£‘5ooo, you 
know.” 

“That’s about $20,000 in our money,” said Kate quickly. 

“Ah, yes, quite so,” said the Colonel slowly. 

“ How high above the sea level is it ?” asked Kate. 

“Well, really now, Miss Kate, you have me. I’m sorry 
to say I’m not informed on that point.” 

“ Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Kate, “ I just asked, you 
know. I suppose the light is visible at night for a long 
distance ? ” 

The Colonel took off his hat and scratched his head. 

“ Um — let me see. It’s curious I can’t recall just how 
far it can be seen. I can’t — ” 

“ Say ! ” called out Allison from the carriage ahead of 
them ; “ see the Lighthouse ? There it is ! ” 

“ Of course we do ! ” answered Kate back again. “We 
are not blind nor deaf, if we are old.” 

The Colonel winced. Even this allusion to age hurt him ; 
for he had just years enough to wish that he had less. Of 
late he had carefully trimmed his side-whiskers and tried to 
imagine that they were not so very gray, and had succeeded 


78 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


in persuading himself that he was hot too fat, only just 
fleshy enough to be stalwart. Now at this random remark 
of Kate’s he suddenly thought of the bald spot on the top 
of his head, and hurriedly replaced his hat, which he had 
taken off. Then seeing Kate’s eyes looking at him so 
kindly, his spirits rose and he said good-humoredly : 

“ Boys will be boys.” 

“ Yes,” assented Kate, “ and it’s a good thing, too.” The 
pretty air of patronage with which she said this, which 
seemed to include the Colonel and herself within a circle 
quite outside of Allison, was very pleasant to the old 
soldier. He was so pleased that he coughed, “ Hum — 
hum,” and said nothing, a way of his when the world went 
well with him. The ride to the Lighthouse led through 
beautiful hills and dales, passing by bits of scenery that 
delighted Kate so much that, after a while, she wanted to 
be quiet. Seeing this, the good old Colonel spoke but 
little, and except for stray shots from Allison and occasional 
remarks from Mr. and Mrs. Weston and Emily, the ride was 
completed in silence. 

The approach to the Lighthouse is quite steep, as Gibb’s 
Hill is the highest point of land on the Bermudas. The 
horses toiled slowly up the ascent, and at last the two car- 
riages reached the little plateau on which the great tower 
stands. It is made of cast iron, and has one of the most 
powerful revolving lights known in the world. It is the one 
height to climb, to obtain a full view of Bermuda. The 
Colonel was very proud of it, and at once began to try 
and get all his party together, while he undertook to mar- 
shal them. 

“ This way, Mrs. Weston, if you please. Here, Emily, 
my child, hold this portmanteau for Mrs. Weston,” handing 
her a dainty hand-bag which that lady had laid on the 
carriage seat preparatory to giving both her palms with 
coquettish trust into the keeping of the Colonel’s strong 
ones. 

Oh, Colonel ! ” she sighed gratefully, as she accom- 
plished, with his aid, the step of two feet down to mother 
earth successfully ; “ thank you so much ! ” 

“ Allow me,” said Allison, mischievously relieving Emily 


STOLEN AMERICA. 79 

of her handkerchief and pretending that it weighed him 
down. “ I would bear all your burdens if I could ! ” 

Emily lifted up her eyes demurely, and said softly ; 

“ Mr. Allison, kindly return me my handkerchief. I may 
require it.” A sweet odor of violet was wafted from Allison 
to Emily, and then tucking the square daintily underneath 
the waistband of her dress, she smoothed it gravely with 
her dimpled tapering fingers, and quietly proceeded to walk 
toward the entrance of the tower. Allison walked by her 
side, wondering why it was that every action of Emily’s 
seemed to have a meaning, no matter how commonplace it 
was. She was never rude, sarcastic, or ill-natured, but she 
quietly did as she wished, and oftentimes defeated his pro- 
jects of fun and mischief without the slightest display of 
temper or uneasiness, 

“ I’ll get even with you yet, you kitten,” he thought to 
himself. 

Mr. Weston and Kate were behind Mrs. Weston and the 
Colonel, as they went in at the entrance. 

“ I say. Colonel,” said Allison, looking round, “you folks 
are behind the age here — awfully.” 

“ How’s that ? ” said the Colonel. 

“ Why, you haven’t got a single ‘ ad ’ up. Not one sign, 
you know,” he went on, as the Colonel looked his surprise. 
“ Why, this place is a capital place for advertisements. So 
many people come here, you know ; it would pay.” 

“Oh! ’’said the Colonel, “ that would be quite against 
the regulations, my dear young sir, — quite so.” 

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed Mr. Weston, slapping Allison on the 
shoulder, “ that is an idea ! Wonder if it could be done : 
‘ John Weston, New York, U. S. A. Call on him at No. — 
Wall Street.’ What do you think, Colonel ? ” 

“ I’m afraid not, sir,” said the Colonel, taking it all seri- 
ously ; “ for although this was given to the Island by the 
Crown, it was only intended as a structure for the light, you 
know. However,” looking puzzled, “ maybe the Governor 
might permit some infringement on the usual custom to 
oblige you, sir, if you spoke to him personally — I — ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” laughed Mr. Weston, “ I was only joking, 


8o 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


man. What good would any advertising do us Americans 
in this one-horse bit of a place ? 

Fred ! ” broke in Kate hurriedly, “ what are you doing ? 
Not trying to cut your name there ! Well, I am surprised ! 
I thought you had outgrown that, with your tops.” 

“ Some cut their names in stone, some write them on the 
sand, and some in the hearts of their countrymen,” went on 
Fred, digging with all his strength ; “ but Fm afraid — this — 
blessed — stick — of — a penknife, wont even let me cut mine 
into wood. However, I have it ! ” Taking out his pocket- 
book with great solemnity, he took a visiting card from it 
and proceeded to pin it up against the wall. 

There ! ” he said, “ now the world will know I’ve been 
here.” 

Emily gave a little ripple of amused laughter ; Mr. Weston 
grinned ; Mrs. Weston said, “ Oh, Fred ! ” Kate shrugged 
her shoulders, and the Colonel innocently said : 

“ Very neat — very neat. But, ah, who are you leaving it 
for, my dear boy, if I may ask ? ” 

“ For posterity, sir ! ” exclaimed Fred dramatically ; “ for 
those that shall come after me ! ” 

“ Ah, yes, quite so,” assented the Colonel, feeling as 
much at sea in this small-sized blow of American fun, as if 
he were not the man of sense he was ; “ ah yes, quite an 
idea.” He put his eye-glasses more firmly on his nose, 
pulled at his gray side-whiskers, and inspected the bit of 
pasteboard as if it were a curiosity. “ Quite an idea — Bless 
me ! what’s this ? ” — staggering and nearly knocked off 
his feet by the sudden falling in upon him of a man who 
seemed to have shot through the entrance door like a buLet 
from a gun. 

“ Ex-cuse me ! ” he stuttered ; “ that door — hie — was 
in a hurry.” 

“ I should say so, sir ! ” agreed the Colonel warmly, his 
ready temper flying into sight at once. “ Can’t you be a 
little more careful, sir, and look where you are going ? ” 
No offense — no offense ! ” answered the gentleman with 
drunken seriousness. “Wouldn’t do — hie — anything to 
annoy the ladies, but — hie — that door — ought to be attended 
to,” He shook his head sadly, and gazed with solemn 


STOLEN- AMERICA, 8l 

bleared eyes at the Colonel. “ It — hie — ought — to be at- 
tended to.” 

“ Come Kate, — Mrs. Weston,” interrupted Allison, “ let’s 
go upstairs. Come, Miss Emily.” 

They were quick to act on his suggestion, casting shiver- 
ing, curious glances at the unfortunate man, who, dressed 
in the clothes of a gentleman, had lost his manhood. 

Kate lingered for a moment, and whispered to her father: 

“ Papa — I’ve seen him at our hotel ; he’s staying there. 
Couldn’t you get our driver to drive him home ? ” 

“ No — no,” said Mr. Weston hurriedly. “ It’s none of our 
affair ; he would probably resent any such offer ; go on up, 
dear; the others will be waiting for us.” 

After a climb of many winding steps, they reached the 
top of the tower — a small room, with the wonderful revolv- 
ing light above it. Just outside of this room was a stone 
balcony, rendered safe for sight-seers by a high, strong iron 
railing that ran around it. The unsought new-comer was 
left below-stairs soliloquizing with a drunken man’s semi- 
consciousness : 

“ Nice sort of people those — hie — saw as I did, that that 
door should be attended to. Gone up to see the tower. 
That is where I’m goin’ — up the tower. Wonder why they 
didn’t wait ! Hie — guess they was in a hurry. M-m- 
head’s rather light. Must have taken a good dose ’s morn- 
ing. Hie — guess I’ll go up too. No — I guess I wont. 
Guess I’ll rest awhile ; legs seem tired — hie — some way.” 

He sat down on the lower steps, leaning his hand against 
the stone side of the tower, and in a few moments was sound 
asleep. 

As soon as the others reached the top, they went out 
upon the stone balcony, the Colonel and Mr. Weston and 
Kate one way, and Allison and Emily and Mrs. Weston 
the other. As they stepped out, they were surprised to see 
Dr. Sinclair standing still, looking out over the beautiful 
view below, at their feet. 

“ Why, hello. Doctor ! ” said Mr. Weston cheerily. 

Didn’t expect to see you here. How are you ? ” The 
Doctor slowly passed his hand over his forehead, as if to 
recall his wandering wits back to earth. 


^2 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


“ Ah ? Mr. Weston, how do you do ? How do you do — I 
was just looking — just looking.” 

“ A right nice bit of scenery that, Miss Weston,” said the 
Colonel, pointing fussily to the view below them. “A 
right nice bit, I call it.” 

“ It is beautiful ! ” murmured Kate slowly, “ beautiful.” 

“ Just step a trifle more this way, Mr. Weston,” said 
Colonel Martin ; “ you can see better then, I fancy.” 

Mr. Weston did so, thus putting a space of about ten feet 
between himself. Dr. Sinclair, and Kate. 

“ Very fine — very fine ! ” he said decidedly to the Colonel ; 
“ I had no idea you could get such a view of the place from 
here.” 

The Colonel proceeded to point out the different small 
islands and main points of the larger one, talking with 
enthusiasm. 

Kate leaned over the iron railing and gazed silently at 
the picture so far below. 

The Doctor too was silent. At last, he turned and said : 
“ The Devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain 
and showeth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the 
glory of them, and saith unto him. All these thing will I 
give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me. And the 
Son of Man answered. Come thou near, O King ! for it 
seemeth that thy kingdom is great in its power, and thee 
only will I serve. Then the Devil leaveth him, and lo ! 
his angels do come and minister unto him.” 

Over Kate’s face came a flash of distaste and protest, and 
she said quickly : 

“ Why do you talk like that ? Such parody is below you, 
Doctor Sinclair.” 

“ Is it ? ” he replied dreamily, not looking at Kate, but 
gazing out over the ocean — “ Is it ? It seems to me that 
that is what the sons of men have said, and will keep on 
saying for all time.” 

“ You don’t say it,” answered Kate quickly, “ nor — ” 

“ Excuse me,” said the Doctor slowly, and turning he 
looked her full in the face. I do say it ! I say it a 
thousand-fold over. I say it with youth — for I know what 
youth untrammelled would say. I say it with the convic- 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


S3 


tion of maturity — for I am of middle age. And I say it 
from yet another older standpoint ; I say it from my soul ! ” 
He was cruel and he knew it. It was as mean a thing as 
ever he did in his life — to thus throw this firebrand of evil 
into a sleeping, peaceful heart. 

The young girl looked at him ; looked, and kept silent. 
At last he said testily, “ Well ?” 

“ Do you mean what do I think ?” said Kate gravely, her 
beautiful large eyes weighing impersonally his thought, and 
thinking how small it was ; “ do you mean what do I think ?” 

“ Of course,” he assented impatiently. 

“Why should you care what I think ?” said Kate. 

“ I do. I would like to have your opinion.” 

“ Ah ! ” she sighed, looking with interest at the strong 
face of the man before her. “ I think most of all, what a 
pity it is that you are not yourself.” 

“ If I were, I would frighten you — child,” he said slowly. 

“ No,” said Kate seriously, “ it is when you are as you 
are now that you frighten me. I never did like masquerades. 
Always the false face has a terror for me. I suppose,” she 
added quickly, “it comes from a fright I had in childhood, 
when my boy friend Allison put on a mask, and looked like 
the blackest imp I ever imagined in dreamland. It was so 
foolish of me to be frightened,” she laughed, “for I heard 
his voice and knew it was Fred, and he is anything but like 
his Satanic Majesty.” 

“We are all his children,” said Dr. Sinclair. 

“No, no, ” exclaimed Kate hurriedly, putting up her hands 
before her face, as one fighting off a blow. “No! that is 
not true.” 

“It is,” said the Doctor slowly, his dark eyes flashing 
fire, and his face alive with the fanaticism of evil that he 
had educated himself into thinking that he felt. ’ 

“It is not true,” said Kate, with the boldness of con- 
viction, “and you know it is not!” 

It is a sad fact that our acceptance or non-acceptance of 
a truth depends so often upon the shape in which it shows 
itself. This time, good as an abstract idea took the form 
of a lovely, flashing, sensitive face, and spoke through young 
eyes and trembling, girlish lips. It was a good dress. It 


§4 


STOLEN AMEEICA. 


spoke well for itself that time. Dr. Sinclair looked, admired, 
his pulses even thrilled for a moment, and then he sighed and 
said cynically: “It is a pity you are so young. Miss Kate.” 

“For whom is the pity,” said the girl, with that quick 
American way of saying the unexpected — “for you or for 
me?” 

The middle-aged man of experience and resources blushed 
deep crimson, and answered quickly: “Forme! certainly 
for me 1 ” 

“I think you are right,” replied Kate seriously, “for if I 
were older, I should be better able to help you.” 

“You think I need help?” said Dr. Sinclair, with an odd 
feeling that now indeed he was masquerading. 

“Yes, I do,” nodded Kate gently. 

“Why do you think so?” he said, gazing with amused 
surprise at his new young mentor. 

“I think so — because — ” stumbled Kate, flushing and 
feeling embarrassed, “because any one who thinks that evil 
is the best to try for in this world, must be wrong — must be 
ill — must be worried or something. I don’t know just how 
to tell you, but it seems to me for one to deliberately choose 
evil, is like one fancying discord when he can listen to har- 
mony, or like one preferring chaos, when he could have 
order and comfort.” 

“Ah?’ said the Doctor slowly, “so! I see your idea. But 
suppose one found, after all, their happiness in discord, 
their delight in chaos — what then?” 

“What then?” said Kate tensely ; “then I should say — ” 

“Good Lord! Allison!” cried out Mr. Weston sharply 
and suddenly, “are you crazy?” 

Kate hastened to her father to see what was the matter, 
the Doctor with her. 

“Ah! How do you do?” said Allison, tapping his hat 
gallantly with one hand while with the other he held on to the 
iron railing, standing on the outside of it, with no protec- 
tion between himself and instant death if his hold slipped or 
his nerves failed him, than this one slight grasp of the other 
hand on the railing. 

“Oh, Fred! Fred! for my sake,” said Mrs. Weston tragi- 
cally, “do come inside at once!” 


STOLEN- AMEEICA. 85 

“Quite against the rules, my dear sir,” coughed the Col- 
onel nervously. “I beg you to come over on this side.” 

Emily clasped her hands and turned pale. 

Dr. Sinclair said brusquely, “Don’t be a fool, Allison.” 

“Fred, I thought you had more sense! Come inside at 
once,” said Kate, turning half away in annoyance and 
irritation. 

With one graceful hand-spring Allison cleared the railing 
and was once more within the enclosure of safety. 

“Pshaw, Kate,” he said boyishly, “that was nothing to 
scare you all so. I wouldn’t fall.” 

“I didn’t suppose that you would,” answered Kate gravely, 
“but the others were alarmed.” 

She turned instinctively to the Doctor, ’groping blindly 
without thinking to get back to the higher plane they had 
left. But it was of no use, the charm was broken. She 
felt cross and irritated, and walked away a little from the rest 
and looked out over the magnificent panorama at her feet. 
Gradually, but surely, the broad expanse of view broadened 
her soul as well, and her small annoyance faded away, and 
she felt herself again. Turning round she said to Dr. Sin- 
clair, with a smile : 

“We live in a big world after all, when this grand glimpse 
of it is only a thousandth part of it.” 

Dr. Sinclair nodded and smiled gently back again. 

Presently a sound of stumbling footsteps made them both 
turn at once. 

“Good — hie — day, Doctor!” said the owner of the feet, 
trying to bow politely. “I — hie — didn’t know you were — 
up the Tower.” 

“How de do, Johnson,” said Dr. Sinclair shortly. 

“We saw him downstairs,” said Kate in a low tone of 
voice. 

“Yes, I know him — a gentleman when he is himself,” 
murmured the Doctor back again, “but when he is on a 
hunt after the ideal (like this) he is poor company. I say, 
Johnson,” he continued, going over to the man and putting 
his arm through his, “let me assist you downstairs. Excuse 
me. Miss Kate?” 

“Certainly,” she answered hurriedly. 


86 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“But I don’t — • hie — want to go downstairs,” said John- 
son positively. “I’ve just — hie — got upstairs, and sueh a 
lot — lot — of stairs, hie,” holding his hands up over his head 
with tipsy energy. “I — hie — never see. Seems to me, they 
got too many stairs — what do you think? There’s this 
door, that wants tendin’ to, and — hie — now — those stairs. 
What do you think. Doe — Doe-tor?” 

“I think,” said the Doetor, “that if we went down, you 
and I together, and eounted them,” he said seriously, 
“then we would know how many steps there were,— • 
see?” 

“Good idea — hie — very good idea. Less — go. But — 
hie — praps I take you from — hie — your sweetheart,” he 
smiled inanely; “don’t want to do that. Don’t like to 
spoil a feller’s fun, you know — ” 

The Doetor flushed again, for the seeond time, that morn- 
ing, a new experienee for him, but Kate was mistress of the 
situation. 

Smiling, she said elearly: “I would be pleased to have 
Dr. Sinelair go with you. Do not eonsider me for a moment. 
My father and mother are here, you know,” and with a 
graeeful little bow, she turned away. 

Johnson tried to take off his hat in polite response, but 
as he only managed to pull it down over his nose, that 
couldn’t be counted as a success.” 

Dr. Sinclair, after long and tiresome maneuverings, accom- 
plished the feat of getting his drunken friend once more 
upon mother earth. He then coaxed him into agreeing to 
be driven home in the dog-cart that he had for himself, and 
at last, with a big sigh of relief, after seeing him started safely 
homeward, he mounted up the many steps again, to tell Kate 
good-day. 

The rest of the party were still on the other side of the 
stone balcony, chatting and laughing, and had not noticed 
this little incident. 

“Well?” said Kate, when the Doctor, out of breath and 
panting a little, stood beside her once more. 

“He is on his way home, poor devil!” he said. 

“What — what did you mean by saying,” hesitated Kate, 
“that when he was out on a hunt after the ideal — he — ” 


STOLEN- AMEEICA. 


87 

“Oh, that’s what makes men drink, you know,” said the 
Doctor soberly. 

Already Kate knew his tricks of face, and saw now at once 
that his words veiled mischief. 

“Oh,” she poirted, “is that all?” 

“It’s true,” said the Doctor, beginning to defend his side- 
light of fact, with his accustomed love of argument. “The 
majority of mankind are unhappy, and if not wholly so, 
partly; you admit that, do you not?’ 

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Kate. 

“Well, the majority have found out that it is chiefly 
through physical causes that they are unhappy. One has 
indigestion; another has rheumatism, another has chills and 
fever, or a weak back, or something. They find themselves 
feeling low, below par, and they find also that alcohol raises 
the temperature, relieves the pain, and raises the spirits. 
Nay, more than that: it often makes them realize, for a time 
at least, their fondest dreams. The beggar feels rich, the sad 
become gay, the dull brain becomes clairvoyant. In their 
search for the ideal, they find that the god Alcohol is great, 
and they bow before him. And who shall blame them, if, 
at times, they become his slaves? Not I — not — I.” 

“That would be all right if it did no harm,” answered 
Kate; “but see! Take this same gentleman that you had 
to send home now. Did he look as if he had found his 
ideal? Did he not look as if he had lost all that was 
worth the having? His brain, his speech, were not his own 
to use. He was on a level with the brutes. If that is 
finding the ‘ideal,’ give me the real and every-day pains for 
all time! ” 

“If — if — ” said the Doctor slowly. “Just suppose it for a 
minute — that you were in some great mental stress of 
despair, and wanted relief, and took to drink to drown dull 
care — as it will do — couldn’t you -excuse yourself for it 
afterward?” 

“My friends might, possibly even you would, but there 
would be one thing that would scorch me until the day of my 
death. ’ ’ 

“And that?” said the Doctor eagerly. 

“Would be my own self-contempt.” 


88 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


Her young, honest eyes looked fearlessly at him, sure of 
what her heart had prompted her lips to speak. 

Over Doctor Sinclair came a curious illumination of him- 
self. For an instant, a lightning flash lit up the darkest 
recesses of his nature, and what he saw there seemed foul 
and black and altogether evil. 

He bowed slowly and turned aside, stood still a few mo- 
ments, and then said mechanically: 

“Good-morning, Miss Kate; I’m going now.” 

Kate w'as accustomed to his abrupt comings and goings, 
and so his leave-taking now did not amaze her, nor seem 
in any way extraordinary. Had she dreamed of how she 
affected him, she would not have been able to turn so hap- 
pily and innocently to the others, and join in the fun and 
chatter. 

All things come to an end quickly, sight-seeing among 
others. 

In due course of time, all w^ere again in their respective 
positions in the carriages, and were driven homeward. 


CHAPTER XL 

What a curious thing it is that, w’hen we are caught in any 
genuine feeling of shame and self-abasement, our first 
impulse is to blind others to the fact. 

Dr. Sinclair was sitting on the piazza of the Princess 
Hotel, smoking a cigar and brooding over and over the few 
words of a young girl, who said what she thought, and that 
was all. But in spite of his years and his experience and 
his firm faith in himself, the idea that this “ child,” as he 
contemptuously accented her image to his own mind, that 
this “ child ” should feel scorched by her own self-contempt 
if she ever slid down hill as he knew and was willing to let 
himself go down ; the idea that this child would feel 
“ scorched ” annoyed him beyond measure. The evil and 
the good ! It is in us all. What is evil, and what is good } 
What is evil for you, to me is nothing. What is my cross, 
may be but one of the points in your crown. He tumbled 
his fancies over and over in this sort of fashion, and finally 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


89 


came to that reckless mood, that is often the fatal reaction 
of overstrained moral tension. Certainly you can overstrain 
your moral health as easily as you can your physical muscles. 
Both are outside of you. Morality is not your spirit’s 
integrity. That is quite a different thing. 

On this particular evening Dr. Sinclair felt a reckless 
bravado of spirit. He felt as if he would like to enjoy to 
the full the play of all his muscles, all his nerves, all of 
everything that he could lay his grasp on. 

He felt the savage exultation of perfect physical and 
mental strength, and that is a state of riches enough to 
intoxicate any poor human being. 

He sat and smoked on the piazza of the Princess Hotel, 
and felt a verve and a strength, that at last proved too strong 
for control. 

He arose and walked quickly and sharply up and down 
the long stretch of piazza. At times he stopped and gazed 
carelessly in at the windows of the drawing-room, smiling 
with satisfaction as he saw Mrs. Gascoigne trying to ward 
off undesired talkers, by pretending to be deeply absorbed 
in her evening’s mail. He knew that she wasn’t reading her 
letters, but that she was waiting for him. He took a cool 
delight in gazing at her beautiful face and thinking how 
little it was to him, and now easily he could do without it. 
He had all the diabolical joy of knowing that any destruc- 
tion he might fancy to commit, was his,. — for the doing. 

But in spite of all his recklessness, an undercurrent of 
thought, induced by Kate’s pure womanliness, held its own. 
He ignored »it and crushed it down, as we walk over sweet 
wild-flowers at our feet ; but the fragrance arose to his brain 
nevertheless. 

The strains of a lively waltz came through the air, dimly, 
like imprisoned beatings of life against a stone wall. He 
listened and enjoyed, and thought: 

“ Ah, yes ; that is good. I like it. And it represents 
just so much of some poor fool’s poor self, struck out into 
visible shape, to comfort others by what he imagined and 
longed for.” 

He stood and listened, and felt the stir that all true music 
makes. As he looked he saw Mrs. Gascoigne rise from her 


90 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


chair, put her letters into a book she held, and walk with 
that careless, graceful glide, unconscious and yet well 
trained, that characterizes the woman of the world, of the 
world of drawing-rooms and people, of the world of luxury 
and taste. 

He felt she was coming to seek him. 

Two moments later, a silvery, laughing voice said : 

“ And so here you are. Dr. Sinclair ! I thank you so 
much, my dear Mr. Brown. I know that you have been 
thinking me very forgetful. Doctor, but the truth is, I was 
so busy reading my letters.” 

“Very excusable. I’m sure,” bowed the Doctor, mechani- 
cally, saying the expected thing in spite of himself. 

“ Don’t let us detain you, Mr. Brown ! ” 

“ Thanks ! awfully sorry, but have an engagement. 
Good-evening;” and the young, unfledged, red-coated soldier 
boy bowed, and went quickly away, glad to get back to the 
fair Bermudian girls of his own age and understanding. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Mrs. Goscoigne said 
hurriedly : 

“ What’t the matter, Richard ? I’ve been waiting for 
you.” 

“ Matter ? Nothing,” he said gloomily. 

“ What is it ? ” she said eagerly and tenderly, “are you ill ?” 

“ III ? No ! ” stretching out in an abandon of strength 
two great arms, to emphasize a yawn. “ No, I am not ill, I 
am only — tired.” 

“ Ah ! ” breathed Mrs. Gascoigne sharply, “ Ah !” 

She arose from the chair into which she had thrown herself 
and linked her arm through his as he stood moodily looking 
in at the drawing-room window. And the sound of beauti- 
ful music came to them both. 

“ I always feel grateful for music, don’t you ?” she said 
softly. 

“No,” growled Dr. Sinclair savagely. “I alwa3^s feel 
annoyed. It is like — like — the smell of violets. Sweet ? 
yes ; but tantalizing and unsatisfying. It suggests what it 
doesn’t give you — heaven.” 

A moment later, as her beautiful face looked longing 
love into his, he said coolly ; 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


91 


“ You are like the violets.” 

A second, and her subtle brain took in the fatal logic of 
his cruel restlessness. She grew paler for a moment, and 
then, turning starry eyes ablaze upon him, said tensely : 

“ I see. But, that other heaven is so uncertain. Sup- 
pose we live on the earth here, while we may.” 

“ With all my heart and soul,” he answered recklessly, 
gazing with admiring eyes at the bright and beautiful 
woman before him. 

“ Pshaw ! ” she shrugged gracefully : “ You have no 
heart ! and you have no soul ; we both know that, 
mon ami ! ” 

‘‘Well, then, I have nothing on which to live with you,” 
he said whimsically. 

‘‘Oh yes, you have — you have yourself,” 

“And what is that?” said the man, waiting for her an- 
swer. 

‘‘The only thing I care for on this earth,” she said fiercely, 
‘‘be it all evil, all good, heaven or hell, I do not care! And 
I tell you I am not easily pleased, Richard Sinclair!” 

His mind stirred to her feeling as a string of a harp re- 
sponds to the touch. Still — outside of that stir and that re- 
sponse, he knew and felt that he could have other interests 
and other loves. He looked at her sadly and shook his 
head. 

‘‘What has come to you?” she said; ‘‘I do not know 
you.” Feeling his hands gently and quickly with tender 
touch, “You are hot, you are on fire, you are not well, 
Richard!” 

He drew his hands from her clasp and laughed as he 
said : 

“I think there must be something the matter with me, for 
I have a feeling that is very new. I don’t quite know what 
I wish to do.” 

‘‘Don’t you,” she laughed softly. “Is that all that is the 
matter with you? Why, I can cure that directly. Til tell 
you what you want! You want to go indoors with me. 
Come!” 

She stood there in her beauty, the picture of his ideal 
woman, charming, self-poised and strong. 


92 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


He looked at her with all his brain approving and all his 
senses satisfied. And yet he thought with ugly sincerity, 
“If you were to go away to-night, and I were never to see 
you more, I could live on without you, very well.” 

The conviction deepened his recklessness, and he said 
politely, offering her his arm: “I am yours, do with me as 
you will, ma belle.” 

‘‘Don’t call me that,” she answered hurriedly. 

‘‘Why not?” he said in surprise. 

‘‘Oh, I don’t know” yes I do, too,” she added danger- 
ously. ‘‘I don’t like it, because I feel that it is what Count 
Saviotti would call me, if — he knew me well and dared to!” 

‘‘Count Saviotti!” exclaimed Dr. Sinclair abruptly. 
“What made you think of him? He has no eyes except for 
Miss Kate, — Miss Weston.” 

“So I have observed,” said Mrs. Gascoigne; “shame- 
less, isn’t it? for of course it’s only the girl’s money.” 

“Do you think that is her only attraction?” questioned 
the Doctor, stopping a moment in their walk and looking 
at her. 

“No,” boldly replied the fair woman before him. “Not 
by any m’eans. She is young, first of all, and that always 
attracts and appeals to the old and jaded” — Involuntarily 
Dr. Sinclair winced — “She is bright intellectually — ” 

“Excuse me,” interrupted the Doctor, ‘ ‘but I never heard 
her say a clever or an original thing yet.” 

“No, probably not,” said Mrs. Gascoigne calmly, “the 
best minds are never volatile ; only the corks can float to the 
top, you know. But if you watch her face, as other people 
speak, you will see that always she knows a good thing when 
she hears it, also that when she does venture an opinion 
upon any given subject, that her views are always sound, 
well-founded, and in entire agreement with the best known 
laws of nature and of art.” 

“What is generally accepted is not of necessity the best,” 
said Dr. Sinclair cynically. 

“I know that ; but it is a fact that this same young Ameri- 
can always instinctively chooses the best, and I never under- 
rate what is powerful,” she laughed charmingly, “nor shut 
my eyes to what I really see,” 


STOLE JV AAfEEICA. 93 

“What a lovely woman you are!” exclaimed the Doctor 
with genuine admiration. 

“Now, you do make me feel small,” she said with a pout, 
“as if one woman’s honest admiration of another was a rare 
piece of justice! I might have expected it from another 
man, but I thought that you would understand me and 
speak differently.” 

“I do understand you,” pressing the slight graceful hand 
that rested on his arm, “and I know of no one whom I ad- 
mire so much. ” 

Praise is sweet from those we love, come it from their 
head or their heart. Mrs. Gascoigne was made so happy 
by this approval of the one man whom she adored, that she 
never questioned the source of her happiness. They walked 
along the piazza and turned in at the main entrance to go 
inside. 

It was a typical quiet comfortable evening at the Prin- 
cess. A few visitors chatting with the regular guests of the 
hotel, the great drawing-room sparsely filled, the side-rooms 
merry with the younger people, the smoking-rooms filled 
with cloud-makers, the reading-room quiet with fathers of 
families enjoying the latest papers, and the reception-room 
filled with a card party that played the chances of gain and 
loss, with the shapes of kings and queens and spades and 
knaves, just as life’s game is ever carried on. 

In this room, seated at a small table, were Count Saviotti, 
Mrs. Weston, Allison and Emily, partners in a game of 
whist. On a low settee were seated Colonel Martin and 
Kate, while Mr. Weston, comfortably leaning back in a 
great, wide, generous arm-chair, smiled good-natured indul- 
gence on all men, and upon his own small world in particu- 
lar. Dr. Sinclair and Mrs. Gascoigne, as they passed the 
open door-way arm in arm, smiled and nodded “Good- 
evening.” 

“Do you like cards?” said the Doctor. “I don’t.” 

“Yes, ” she answered brightly ; “ of course I do! theygive 
one an opportunity of measuring one’s self against the 
world.” 

“Stuff!” said Dr. Sinclair, “it is the occupation of vac- 
ant minds, It is the pastime of fools — it is the — ’ ’ 


94 


STOLEN AMEEICA. 


“Dear Bruin,” smiled Mrs Gascoigne (her name for him 
when she thought him clumsy and heavy), “you are in a 
china shop! take care! don’t walk too fast, old Bear, or 
you may break something.” 

“As long as I don’t hurt you, I don’t care what else I 
may smash,” he said in keen enjoyment of her as she stood 
there, beautiful, perfect, in wit and in outline, nothing seem- 
ingly wanting. 

“Mais! Helas!” exclaimed the Count Saviotti to Emily, 
“mais you have de odd trump apres tout. Mademoiselle!” 

“Four!” exclaimed Allison. 

“One!” said Mrs. Weston, coquettishly, childishly dis- 
playing her whole hand to all who might choose to see. 

“Ah! Madame,” sighed Count Saviotti suggestively, “Ah! 
Madame!” 

“It’s your lead,” interrupted Allison, “you always seem 
to take the cake. Count; I beg your pardon,” he added 
with a laugh, “I don’t mean to use slang, Kate,” looking 
apologetically over to the sofa. 

“ What — what is it you mean by ‘ Take the cake ? ’ ” said 
Count Saviotti, with interest. 

“ Yes, tell us,” said Emily demurely, raising white lids at 
Allison, and looking the picture of quiet mischief. 

‘‘ Oh, that,” said Allison shamefacedly, “ comes from the 
darkies, I guess. You know, they have a ‘ cake walk,’ and 
that is a trial to see who walks the best, and there is a large 
cake for the one who beats. You know, the one who walks 
and looks the best,” he said hurriedly, with unfinished 
American descriptiveness ; “ and so I s’pose that’s why we 
say when any one gets ahead that they ‘ take the cake.’ ” 

“^Bien ! I see,” said the Count politely. “Then — Trois ! 
three ! dat is mine, I belief. Monsieur Allison,” politely 
gathering up the cards. 

“ I give good luck to the Count and to mamma,” said 
Kate, leaving the sofa and standing by the table for a 
moment. 

“ Oh, I say now,” exclaimed Allison boyishly, “ that isn’t 
fair ; you’re always a Mascot, you know.” 

“ Well, then,” laughed Kate, “ you had better keep in my 
good graces if th^t be so. Come, Colonel Martin, com^ 


STOLEN AMERICA. 95 

papa, there are very few people in the drawing-room now, 
and no one is playing the piano.” 

Mr. Weston had asked Colonel Martin to sing some old 
English ballads that he was very fond of listening to, and 
Kate was to play the accompaniments. Emily, Allison, and 
Mrs. Weston were quite content to remain behind to finish 
their game of cards, but Count Saviotti chafed and fumed 
secretly under the infliction of having to stay with those who 
bored him, and that kept him from following “ Mademoiselle 
Weston.” 

Kate led the way along the main corridor to the drawing- 
room. As they passed Dr. Sinclair and Mrs. Gascoigne 
promenading up and down, Mr. Weston said cordially : 

“ Don’t you want to come in and listen to the Colonel 
sing ? His ‘ Miller of the Dee ’ is wonderful.” 

“ Presently,” nodded the Doctor carelessly. 

Kate and Mrs. Gascoigne smiled pleasantly at each other 
as they passed, a smile of mutual and genuine admiration. 
As they disappeared into the drawing-room, Mrs. Gascoigne 
sighed, a breath of unconscious envy. 

At the same moment Kate said to the Colonel : “ How 
graceful Mrs. Gascoigne is ! She always reminds me of 
some beautiful picture.” 

“ Really, now ! ” answered the Colonel. “ It never struck 
me like that ; but she’s a fine figure of a woman, certainly.” 
Kate smiled, thinking it useless to speak further, and seat- 
ing herself upon the piano stool, ran nimble fingers over 
yielding keys with the carelessness of trained power. 

Only a few strangers were in the room, and they were 
evidently busy with their own thoughts. Mr. Weston drew 
up an easy-chair near the piano, and Colonel Martin, turn- 
ing over sheets of music, began to hunt for the especial bal- 
lad requested. 

“ Ah! here it is. Miss Kate,” he said at last. Kate played 
the air as an introduction, and then in a clear, bluff, hearty 
voice the Colonel sang. 

Mr. Weston crossed his legs and lay back in his chair, 
beating time sympathetically with one big palm over the 
other. After that was finished he called for “ Annie 
Laurie then the Colonel sang, Only an Ivy Leaf/’ 


96 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


growing red with sentimental energy and making up in 
heartiness what he lacked in harmony. Then he picked out 
an old English ballad that was a favorite of Kate’s : “ Mad- 
eline, dear Madodine ! ” He had a fashion of standing 
with his back to the piano when he sang and facing his pos- 
sible audience, especially when the song was a familiar one 
as in this instance. He stood with one hand on his breast, 
the other at his side, his head thrown well up and his broad 
shoulders squared. Kate, as she sat on the piano stool, 
faced one side of the room opposite the two end windows. 
Mr. Weston sat leaning back in comfort, enjoying the full 
manly voice as no fine trained singer could please him. 
Colonel Martin, gazing earnestly off into space, sang softly — 
“ Mado-line ! Dear Madoline ! ” when suddenly Kate, rais- 
ing her eyes, glanced at one of the opposite windows. 

“ Oh ! ” she screamed out, loud and high and clear like a 
bell alarm of fire ; then she jumped to her feet, and, runn- 
ing to her father, buried her head on his breast. 

“ My God, child ! what is it ? ” exclaimed Mr. Weston in 
alarm. 

“ Oh ! oh ! oh ! ” shivered Kate in convulsive, shudder- 
ing screams. “ Oh ! oh ! ” 

“What is it, oh what is it ?” panted the Colonel, leaning 
over her in terror. 

Dr. Sinclair and Mrs. Gascoigne had also heard the pierc- 
ing cry of alarm, and the sudden tightening of fear around 
their hearts had made them drop apart, waiting. A second 
later and they caught the following cries. “Oh ! oh ! 
oh ! ” rang out Kate’s voice in a childish abandon of horror. 

Through Dr. Sinclair rushed a wave of fiery flame, sud- 
den and resistless. Alive, keen, eager, full to the brim with 
daring, he felt himself equal and more than equal to kill 
whatever waged harm to her. Kill ? Aye kill — kill — kill ! 
Like a flash of lightning he was in the room and at her side, 
blazing at the staring faces of the Colonel and her father. 

“ What is it ? Who hurt her ? ” he said. 

“ I do not know,” gasped Mr. AVeston. 

With a frightened shudder Kate lifted her head a moment 
and said ; “ The sailor ! The man who tied me with the. 
rope ! I saw his face ; at that window, there — looking in ! ” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 97 

She clung around her father’s neck with child-like terror 
and trust. 

Leaving the room like a flash as he had entered it, Dr. 
Sinclair sped along the corridor, calling out as he passed 
the reception-room door, “Count ! Come ! That sailor ! ” 

The polite Count Saviotti overturned the card-table in 
his galvanic spring out into the hall, and left Mrs. Weston, 
Emily, and Allison staring. 

In five minutes half the masculine portion of the hotel 
were out on the piazza ; down the steps ; round the grounds, 
down the road and searching with all the eagerness of manly 
indignation to find the tramping scoundrel. No use ! Not 
a glimpse of him could be seen. Not a sign of him was 
found. Weary at last with their fruitless efforts, they came 
indoors and clustered around the pale and frightened 
girl. 

“Are you sure, Kate, my dear, that it was he?” said her 
father huskily. 

“ Sure ! Yes, papa ; I could never forget him ; that 
shaggy hair- and black beard. Oh no ! I could never mis- 
take him ! ” 

“ Pshaw, Kate,” said Allison nervously, but trying to 
speak cheerily, “ you must have been dreaming, for Count 
Saviotti and I saw him sail on the Orinoco for America. It 
couldn’t have been he, you know.” 

Kate shook her head and shuddered. Count Saviotti 
and Dr. Sinclair were among the last to come indoors. 

“ Well ? ” said Dr. Sinclair to him shortly. 

“ I would give one tousand pounds to catch him ! ” 
answered the Count fiercely. 

Dr. Sinclair brushed by him, and walked fast up and 
down in front of the office. The Count walked along the 
hall, and going into the deserted reading-room threw him- 
self into one of the chairs and rested his head on the table. 

Mrs. Gascoigne, who had been in the drawing-room with 
the others and had left them again, looking along the cor- 
ridor saw Dr. Sinclair’s restless pacing. 

“ So ! ” she smiled faintly, to herself — “ It is true then ! 
This unfinished child pleases you as I cannot ! Ah ! This 
will not do. Leon must hurry ; must hurry with his plan ; or 


98 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


I shall miss — my love.” Walking along softly, she glanced 
in at the open reception-room door and saw the Count, his 
head buried in his hands. 

“You, too,” she thought bitterly, “what is the world 
coming to ! ” Gliding into the room, she touched him on 
the arm. “You forget where you are ! ” she murmured low. 

He started, and lifting up his head, showed her such a 
face of horror and despair, that it checked the words on 
her lips. 

“ It was my room-mate — at — Warwick ! ” he hissed low 
into her ear. “ Zam — the sailor, the von who was chained 
to my feet for two years! Comprenez? Je crois that I 
him send to Am^rique ! He has lied to me and is here 1 
Comprenez — vous ce que je vous dis ? He knows you air 
my wife 1 He knows all ! ” 

She whitened to her very lips, and staggering, almost fell. 
Then she grasped at the table and steadied herself. 

“ Let me think,” she said faintly. 

“ Ah, tink ! Tink as you never used your wit befqre, 
Louise ! Tink ! For your life and mine hangs on your 
tinking.” 

Mrs. Gascoigne mechanically.seated herself in the chair 
that Count Saviotti placed under her, and staring blankly 
into nothingness, tried to control her wavering nerves and 
swaying thoughts. 

The Count, relying upon her superior brain in the emer- 
gency, simply waited. Ten minutes passed by, and only 
the occasional murmur of voices in the distance came to 
break the stillness. At last raising wearily her eyes to his, 
she said : “ I must have time. Help me to my room ; I will 
see you to-morrow.” 

He bowed, and giving her his arm with gentle semblance 
of care, escorted her along the hallway to the main stair- 
case. He went with her no further, as she signified her 
ability to mount alone. 

When half-way up the stairs she turned, and beckoned 
him to her. He sprang up the stairs obediently. 

“ Go 1 go 1 ” she gasped faintly, “ to her — Miss Weston. 
Keep Dr. Sinclair from her, whatever you do. He is your 
only rival.” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


99 


“ Sacre ! ” gritted the Frenchman through his teeth ; “ I 
vill attend to dat !■” 

Hours later that night, when all the house was at peace, 
at rest, and asleep. Dr. Sinclair once again made an entry 
in his diary. 


CHAPTER XH. 

“ I TELL you. Count,” said Mr. Weston to Saviotti a day 
or so after Kate’s fright, in the drawing-room, “if I could 
catch a glimpse of that fellow, I would fix him ! This 
comes of trusting that class of scoundrels. I thought when 
I heard that you had given him a chance for life again, that 
it was misplaced charity. I have generally found that a 
man who will steal, will lie, and steal again.” 

“ Ah ! Monsieur Weston ! You cannot zay more to me 
than I zay to myself ! To tink dat Mademoiselle Kate 
should frightened be — have de horrairs — by such a villain ! 
It makes me feel that I could choke him by de neck — so ! 
But I find him, sair ! I find him — and den — he vill not 
again trouble Mademoiselle, your lovely daughter.” 

As Mr. Weston gazed at the Frenchman’s brown face 
with his neat black waxed mustache and scintillating black 
bead eyes, his faultless linen collar that stood high about 
the thin muscular throat, a sense of the man’s relentless 
cruelty was in some way borne in upon him. Mr. Weston 
was a shrewd judge of men, and with all his seeming blind- 
ness to the small things of life, there were few items that 
escaped his vision. That he found most facts too small and 
unimportant to prate about, gave most people the impres- 
sion that he missed them. They were sadly mistaken ; he 
missed nothing. 

In the present instance, he saw what the cunning Saviotti 
little dreamed of — namely, the bloodshot restlessness of his 
eyes, the tremor of his strong, lithe brown hands, and a 
desperate look in his face at times, that could only be there 
from some strong inward excitement. Remembering that the 
Count had been instrumental in securing the sailor’s release 


106 


STOLEN AMEkICA, 


before, and judging that the circumstances on their face 
were not of a nature to induce anything but indignant 
annoyance and vexation — he now thought that some motive 
other than charity had been back of the Count’s leniency, 
and judged that the sailor possessed some knowledge that 
the Count feared to have fall into other hands. He had 
not fancied Count Saviot^i after a few days’ acquaintance 
with him, in spite of his polished manners, suave speeches, 
and polite courtesies. Something about them rang false. 
While, on the other hand, his first impression of Dr. Sin- 
clair, which had been unfavorable, had gradually given way 
to a genuine admiration and warm regard for the man. 
As he stood looking at Count Saviotti, the memory of 
Dr. Sinclair’s face when he dashed into the room at Kate’s 
terrified cry came back to him, and he smiled a smile of 
gratified pleasure. That at least had been genuine — there 
had been no black background there. Since that moment 
the Doctor had made no especial attempt to see her, how- 
ever ; in fact he seemed less concerned in the incident than 
any of the rest of their usual party. But to this shrewd 
observer of ways and men, this was no sign of forgetful- 
ness — rather the reverse. He compared the anxiety of the 
two men as the Count stood there, his nervous glances 
falling here and there about them, and' rightly concluded 
that the one man had been cut to the heart when he feared 
ill was coming to Kate, and that the other had been shaken 
to his soul for fear of his miserable self. 

Twisting the gold links of his watch-chain in his fingers, 
he spoke again 

“Well, Count, let me know if you find him. I’m going 
down to the village, so must leave you here; good-morning.’’ 

“Good-morning, sair,’’ answered the' Count, hurriedly, 
but taking off his hat with slow grace as was his custom. “I 
will see you later, sair.’’ 

Mr. Weston turned and walked on, but stopping after a few 
moment’s walk, he turned and looked back. He saw the 
Frenchman still standing in the road, where he had left him, 
nervously tapping his boots with the end of his polished cane. 
“He’s in trouble, if ever a man was,’’ thought John Weston, 
“and I’d give a thousand dollars to know just what about.’’ 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


lot 


But the barriers to knowledge, simple as they were — as they 
always are — kept from him what he wished. Until we can 
triumph over space by eyesight that annihilates all interven- 
ing objects — until we can scorn all sound ripples by a sense 
of hearing that overleaps all distance, we shall be bound and 
limited by the old-time eyes and ears that have since the 
days of Adam been our prison-walls. 

There is no doubt that this wish of all humanity to soar 
above its limitations is the germ of some great fact concern- 
ing our spirit powers. The greatest inventions of the most 
wide-open minds are but faint beginnings of the life some 
day to be, and to be common to us all. The easy-to be- 
read simplicity, of all hidden complications on this planet 
of ours, are always a source of wonder to us, after we are 
behind the scenes and know. As Mr. Weston walked off 
toward the town, he felt this annoyed sense of baffled power, 
but being a practical man, he did not allow it to weigh upon 
him long, so he thought, “Well, I can’t see through a stone 
wall. All I can do is to wait and watch and keep my eyes 
open — that is, to a certain extent.’’ Then, like a sensible 
man, he put away the annoyance and went about his business. 

Count Saviotti stood some time in the middle of the road, 
busily thinking. Mrs. Gascoigne’s wisdom had only cul- 
minated in one offensive idea; and that was for her not to 
show herself. Upon learning that the sailor Jones supposed 
her to be dead, that source of danger was obliterated as long 
as he by no means chanced to see her. That was all very 
well, and as far as temporary relief went, was great, but 
it did not alter the facts of the case, that Jones was at large, 
and that if she stirred from the refuge of the hotel, he was 
likely to meet and encounter her at any day. The bond that 
held the strange trio together was simply this : Years before, 
a short time after her early marriage with Saviotti, Mrs. 
Gascoigne (then the daughter of a London lapidary) had 
discovered that her French husband was not only equal to 
any games of chance to gain a livelihood, but that he had for 
some time been singularly successful in a very peculiar line 
of trade, — namely, that of procuring very valuable uncut 
gems without the permission of the owners. It was a 
wonderfully safe trade in this respect : that after the gems 


102 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


were once secured, they were almost impossible of identifi- 
cation by the original owners, and therefore safely and easily 
disposed of by the latest possessor. Upon one occasion, 
however, owing to too great a trust in human nature, parti- 
cularly sailor nature that is fond of its grog, Saviotti, then 
known as Duquette, got into serious trouble. He relied «pon 
this Sam Jones to bring him a particular little parcel from out 
of a room on board a certain ship. Jones got the parcel — but 
also got a few more glasses of drink than were good for him. 
This led him to show the contents of the little parcel to 
some chums of his, and to brag. Unfortunate, unhappy 
chance! one of the ship’s officers, who happened to come 
along just at that time, quietly listened to his few remarks, 
and then just as quietly had Jones brought to the captain’s 
office — to settle. In a maudlin state of fear Jones told of 
the Frenchman Duquette and his pretty English wife; and 
how they paid him well for his trouble ; and how he even then 
was awaiting him. The result of the investigation of the law 
was that both Duquette and Jones were sentenced to prison 
and hard labor for two years. During that time Mrs. 
Duquette showed the wifely devotion that all women 
do in times of adversity, and although unable to see her 
husband, she worked hard for him, ajnd had quite a sum of 
money saved when he was released from his servitude. 
Saviotti showed his gratitude for this by a series of continual 
small tortures, until one day, in desperation, she left him and 
fled to America. The rest of her life she had heard of him 
through the letters of a faithful servant, of his subsequent 
forgeries and greater rascalities; of his being imprisoned 
again, and of his being shot upon trying to escape there- 
from. When she received news of his death, she felt thank- 
ful, and had in truth led a peaceful life until her visit to 
Bermuda. There she had seen and fallen into a great and 
deep love for Dr. Sinclair, and even, after learning of her 
legitimate husband’s existence, was so infatuated that noth- 
ing — no crime, nor evil, could serve to swerve her from her 
purpose. 

Now their common fear and trouble made her and the 
Count friends and allies for the first time in years. As the 
Count stood moodily thinking on the roadside, he made up 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


103 


his mind that they must find Jones, and get rid of him this 
time more effectually. As he stood there in the bright sun- 
light, the blue sky overhead and the blossoming flowers at the 
wayside, he was deliberately thinking of ways and means as 
dark and as hideous as any plans concocted by midnight in 
the darkest dens of infamy. Slowly he turned and walked 
on — thinking, thinking. 

Presently upon his ears came a hoarse, rasping sound — 
“Caw — caw — ca-w — !’’ His hand tightened on his cane 
and he stood still — “Caw — caw — caw — !“ He looked to 
right and left — he went to the edge of the wall nearest the 
water. He saw only tangled vines and growing shrubs, pic- 
turesque rocks, and below him, the rippling blue waters. 

Again came the sound — “Caw — caw — caw — !“ This time 
it seemed to come from the opposite side of the road. 
Again the call — yes, unmistakably it was on his right — he 
leaped over the stone wall and landed into a field of Bermuda 
lilies. Up the slope grew trees and bushes. Again the 
cry — “Caw — caw — caw — ! ’ ’ 

He followed the sound, which led him to the grove. Pene- 
trating into it a short distance he almost stumbled over the 
big human crow at his feet. 

“Hold up a bit, mate. I saw yer in the road and knew yer 
would come. Have one?” insolently pushing forward to 
him a bunch of bananas. “They’re light fodder, but we’ve 
had worse.” 

“ Imbecile ! What aire you a-doin’ here ? Why aire you 
not on ze way to Amerique ? ” 

“ Oh, come now,” biting off a big mouthful of banana and 
talking at the same time, “ Why am I not in America ? Be- 
cause, — that’s why. Did you think me a d n fool sure 

’nough, to leave their diggin’s for you to rake in for your- 
self ? Do you take me for a clean gone bloke? Naw, sir,” 
munching down bananas with a monkey-like dexterity — 
“ Naw, sir.” 

“ You sot ! ” gritted Saviotti through his teeth — “ you 
great big one damn fool ! ” 

They eyed each other in distrust and hatred. It would 
have been hard to choose between them which looked the 
worst. 


i04 STOLEN' AMERICA. 

Did you not see,” said Saviotti, “ that I did ze best I 
could for us both ven I you gave ze money to Amerique ? I 
have not much, I am poor ! Dere is no gold mine here ; 
dere is —netting ! Tell me ; what you like to do, hey ? Live 
on ban-nan-nah all your days? Non? Veil — dat’s what 
you will do here, — mon camarade.” 

“ Shut that, will yer ? ” said Jones, looking sulky ugliness 
at the Count. “ You don’t live on this soft rot all the time, 
and you are here.” 

“ Mais OLii ! yes ! I am here ! But I am here at une 
grande outlay ! I am here on the moneys of other places — 
comprenez-vous ? I am here at von grande expense. I am 
here, you fool, eef you must know— not to pick de gold 
out of de fields, but to,” lowering his voice to a whisper, “ to 
marry the daughter of von rich American. She vill bring 
me de gold — other I have not ! Comprenez ? And eef she 
zee me de friend of you — Sacre ! She nevair look at me 
more. Mais, vous etes un idiot ! To spoil de chance of 
both, comme 9a !” 

The sailor stopped his munching and looked doubtfully 
at the Count. 

“ Td give a pile to know ef you was lyin’,” he finally said ; 
but what a blasted fool I be ! Of course you is. You 
wouldn’t run your neck in the noose for any gal:; — you’d get 
the tin widout that.” 

“ Mais, bon Dieu ! ” cried Saviotti “ vot can I zay to you 
to show you ze truth ! Dere — is — no — money — here,” shak- 
ing, at every word, the arm of Jones with his strong, thin, 
brown fingers, “ excepte — vot — is — in — de — possession of 
des Americans. Dey ees not fools — pas imbeciles — dey ees 
smart ; dey haze d’esprit — de brains,” tapping his forehead 
significantly. “ Dey zee me wif you ! and, bah ! dey drop 
me like de hot cake — so ! Tell me vy come you, comme un 
sot, upon de esplanade de I’hotel dat evening ? Did you not 
know dat you vould be zeen ? Did you not know dat is vas 
avec beaucoup de peine dat I you got free from de jail ? de 
prison? Ne savez-vous pas dat eef de fataire of Madem- 
oiselle Weston you have seen, dat he your neck vould ring — 
comme 9a ! Imbecile ! Idiot ! Vy have you return ? You 


STOLEN AMERICA. 105 

but make de trouble for myself — for yourself — for us both ! 
com-prenez-voLis ? ” 

The evident earnestness and despair of the Count im- 
pressed the sailor in spite of himself. He had returned 
simply and solely because it had gradually sifted through 
his ignorant consciousness that there must be some sort of 
a harvest in Bermuda or else the Count would not remain 
there. Just what, he didn’t know. Vague ideas of gold 
mines and other marvels had floated across his misty hori- 
zon, and he vaguely fancied that wherever the Count was 
must be money in some shape or other. He had dropped 
off the steamer when it touched at Ireland Island on its way 
out from Hamilton Harbor and had returned on foot — hid- 
ing and skulking in by-roads and woods until the night he 
ventured on the hotel piazza. His object had been to see 
and find the Count, and now he had found him, and the 
result was anything but satisfying. He stopped munching 
the banana and looked at vSaviotti. 

“Humph! wliat a bloomin’ ass hi’s been,’’ he said. 

“Oui!” nodded the Count angrily, “vorse dan any brute! 
for dey knows enough to go in ven it rains! But you! 
You aire — ’’ shrugging his shoulders quickly. “I have no 
words for you ! ’ 

“I say,” said the man with cunning, “is the gal Miss 
Weston, the one I tried to get the sparklers from?” 

“Don’t you dare breath her name! You villain!” said 
the Count, springing at his throat and holding it like a vice. 
“I have von good mind to choke you so — mais non! I 
vill not!” letting go his hold suddenly. “I vill not.” 

“See here mate,” grunted out Jones roughly, “don’t try 
that ’ere again. I haint over — particular — but hi objects 
to bein’ hugged like that on ’count of a-speakin’ of one 
leddy’s name. As long as she is the one — I haint got a 
thing to say against it; but don’t you come that ’ere on me 
again. Speak me fair, I say, speak me fair. Give me the 
brass and I’ll quit, this time for good.” 

“Geev you de brass! Tink you dat I am made of money! 
You vill have to wait, mon ami; I cannot help you all at 
once. You vill have to hide here de best you can, for de 
two veeks— pairhaps more zan dat. And mon avis to you 


io6 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


ees let not no one zee you, or you in de prison go — and no 
kind friend you vill help out dis time! Good-morning! 
Bon jour, mon ami! I supposed that ven I with you desire 
la conversation, I can you find at home — here?” 

‘‘O, say now!” sulked Jones, “aint a-goin’ back on a 
chum, is yer? You’d better give me the tin, or I’ll peach ! ” 

“Ah?” said Saviotti, bowing, while his bead eyes danced 
with malice, “so? Tell avay, mon ami! Who vill believe 
de drunken zailor against de vord of Count Saviotti? De 
vord of a tief against dat of de gentilhomme? Mais non, 
mon ami — you aire not wise. Do not angair me, or I vill 
not help you evair — even ven de kindness of my heart might 
me incline.” 

With a sort of grunt of defeat Jones squatted on the 
ground and with an old penknife slit the long Leaves of the 
banana plant into great green ribbon strings. ‘T s’pose,” 
he went on sulkily, ‘T’ll stay here, but if yer don’t fetch 
me tin afore long. I’ll chance it at the Dockyard.” 

“Bettair not! ” smiled the Count down at him sarcastic- 
ally; “bettair not. Bettair, much bettair vait for me, mon 
ami. Bon jour!” and leaving his crestfallen companion, 
he turned about — gave one shrill, inimitable ‘‘Caw — caw — 
caw!” in derision, and soon was out of his sight. 

Upon his return to the hotel. Count Saviotti’s first im- 
pulse was to seek Mrs. Gascoigne. He found her sitting 
with a group of ladies in one of the side-rooms, looking 
somewhat paler than usual, but as lovely as ever. 

‘‘Pardon! Mille pardons! Madame Gascoigne, mais 
une lady commissioned me to bring you to her out on de 
piazza, eef you vill be so kind.” 

‘‘Certainly. Excuse me, Mrs. Byrd — Mrs. Weston; I 
will return shortly.” 

The Count stood in a graceful French fashion, and bowed 
himself artistically out at the door after Mrs. Gascoigne had 
passed through. When out of earshot of the others, he said 
quickly : 

‘‘No one you desires to see, qui moi! I hav zeen 
Zam! And I him hav scare! Oh! so!” chuckling at the 
thought, ‘‘all scare to pieces! He fear de jail — he tink he 
ipust hide from Mr, Westop— until dQ ne?ct steamer com^ 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


107 


dat can him take to Ameriqiie! He is in un bois de cedre — 
de woods — he hide — he hav fear! I hav him undair my 
thumb now. He hav not you zeen ; he tink dat I stay to 
marry Mademoiselle Weston — and he know notting else. I 
tell you dis, so you know now how to act ; you can go most 
any vair. Zam vill not you see. He like de mole in de 
ground — vill keep avay. As une grande faveur, I him stow 
avay on de next steamer to Amerique ; he not come back — 
nevair fear ! ” 

Count Savoitti said all this hurriedly and with triumph, 
talking so that occasional passers-by would not hear him. 
Mrs. Gascoigne sighed a big sigh of relief — but still it was 
a sigh. 

“That is good,” she answered “but — that is not all. 
When — have — you been with Miss Weston alone lately?” 

She asked it hesitatingly. 

“Not lately — no — I could not it manage; mais, I have 
not idle been ! I hav giv her de flowers — de books — de rare 
shells. I have interrupt upon her conversations ven I could 
very often. I hav remind her all de time of mon existence. 
Nevair fear, Louise, I have beaucoup a faire as you! You 
may belief it or non, comme vous voulez, mais, I love Mees 
Kate! She is adorable ! Une innocente ! ” 

“Bah!” interrupted Mrs. Gascoigne, “she is no country 
girl — not une bourgeoise ! ” 

“Non!” agreed the Count enthusiastically, “pas une 
bourgeoise, mais une jeune grande dame! u, fine-la-dy! 
avec la maniere of the most high, the heart of an angel, and 
the Miind of — une jeune Americaine! Ess not that enough? 
Cela me va, exactement.” 

“I don’t doubt it — she is just what would suit you — but 
I much fear — that you will not suit her.” 

“Vy not?” interrupted the Count angrily. “I am not 
disagreeable en appearance — in maniere j’ai le savoir faire — 
I amuse her — I can giv her la distraction. She has I’esprit — 
I’intelligence quick — she appreciate les bons mots — la verve 
des auteurs — mes petites histoires — they please her — pour- 
quoi pas? Vynot? Who else can come before me? Jeune 
Allison ? Pah ! He ees but un gaillard ! Good for a leetle 
time only, Ilfl’estrien, Col-g-nel Martin? Vous m’amusez| 


lo8 STOLEN AMERICA, 

He ees ini vieux grand-pere! Doctair Sinclair? Dere you 
aire mis-taken tout a fait, he has not spoken to her since de 
scare de I’autre soir! excepte les civilites ordinaires. Que 
pensez-vous de 9a? He — un amant! Jamais. Non, ma 
belle, I hav the coast clear — il n’y a plus de danger.” 

“I wish I could think so,” murmured Mrs. Gascoigne 
bitterly. 

“Pouf!” laughed the Count derisively. “Of what hav 
you to fear? Look in votre miroir — look at her face! Tres 
belle, ma Louise. Vy? Because she the money has’ c’est 
tout. I zay dis to you sincerement — eef you were vraiment 
Monsieur Gascoigne’s vidow, wif de money you hav’ now — 
for des expenses necessaires I — Leon Duquette — (and I am 
not a poor judge des femmes) I vould choose you a tousand- 
fold over and above Mademoiselle Weston. She hav youth — 
oui! but she hav les crudites of youth; she have la fig- 
ure — oui — but she not dress comme vous! She hav I’intelli- 
gence — oui — but she not hav I’abilite to use it. Elle est 
jeune — informe, pas fini — comprenez?” 

‘‘I know,” said Mrs. Gascoigne slowly, “but neither is a 
rosebud finished, and that is to some its greatest beauty. 
And do you know, Leon, I think that that will always be 
Miss Weston’s charm ? She will keep on growing.” 

“Que dites-vous?” asked the Count irritably. “I do 
not you understand. Eef she grow all de time — Bah ! your 
talk is mystique — I cannot you follow ! Leesten to sense. 
You, Mme. Gascoigne,” smiling in mock adoration, “ aire 
a beautiful woman — et bien sage. Do not let une petite 
enfant rob you of what you desire ! ” 

“ No — I will not ! ” answered Mrs. Gascoigne, moved 
and relieved and affected by the Count’s evident genuine 
estimate of her powers ; “ I will not ! You are right. Mon- 
sieur Count Saviotti. I regret that I must leave you now. 
Ah ! here is Miss Weston. We were just talking of you. 
Miss Kate, and the Count was saying how delighted he 
would be to read over some French authors with you if you 
cared to keep fresh your knowledge of French'.” 

“Would you? Wouldn’t you mind. Count?” replied 
Kate innocently and eagerly, as she came in at the main 
entrance of the hotel, “ wouldn’t you mind, really ? Oh, I 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


109 

should be so much obliged to you. One does forget so 
easily, and although I read French fairly well, I cannot speak 
it as I would like to.” 

“ I should most happy be,” bowed the Count, with a cer- 
tain dignity, “ to appoint one hour a day for de purpose — 
eef dat vould suit de plaisir of you and votre pere et mere, 
Mademoiselle.” 

“Ob, thank you ! You are very good. Count Saviotti ! 
But wont it tire you — wont it bother you ? I don’t want to 
be a nuisance to my friends,” said Kate, smiling eagerly. 

“ Pas du tout,” replied the Count, smiling in turn ; “ au 
contraire — it vill me much plaisir giv ! Ah — here ees Mon- 
sieur Weston — let us ask him.” 

“Oh, papa !” exclaimed Kate girlishly, “Count Saviotti 
has offered to give me an hour a day to read French with 
him. Can I ? What do you think ? Would it be fair to 
trouble the Count so much ? ” 

Mr. Weston looked shrewdly at the three faces before 
him ; at the Count’s, smiling and pleasant, at Mrs. Gas- 
coigne’s, expressing only polite interest, and at Kate’s, 
eager and hopeful, and in a second he decided. “ Why, 
certainly, Kate, my dear, if the Count is willing; only I 
guess you’ll both be tired of it in a week. By-by ! Fm 
going up to wash my hands for dinner,” and nodding care- 
lessly he passed on and left them. As he slowly walked up 
the broad stairway to his room, he muttered with keen 
enjoyment to himself : “Hum, they take me for a blind old 
fool — and so I am — that is, to a certain extent.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

EXTRACT FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF RICHARD SINCLAIR, M.D. 

“ One must be dead not to feel, so from my pain I get 
the pleasure of knowing that I am alive. To think that the 
cry of any human being should affect me as Kate’s did ! I 
do not understand myself. I thought I had grown beyond 
all care for any other, — but that cry of fear and terror set 
something astir in me I never felt before. It was not love, 
^s I have always understood the word ; it was more than 


no 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


that. It seemed like a breaking up of all foundations. I 
feel as I fancy one would feel if an earthquake suddenly 
upheaved the solid earth beneath his feet, and threw him 
fierce and far into a new land, beyond his own. 

“ I know now from the clutch of horror that fastened 
round my heart, such as I never felt before in all my life — 
that if aught of evil came to her, 1 could not bear it. She 
is more to me than myself. Oh, the self-sarcasm with which 
I write that down ! Do you understand the pitifulness of 
it, Richard Sinclair? Do you take in fully what it implies? 
That in spite of your reason and your will, some inward, 
unaccounted force within you arises in response to the cry 
of another and is stronger than the calm conclusions that 
you had so faithfully worked out for years and made your 
own ? I know not if you have one single good trait, Richard ; 
but at least you have never played the hypocrite to your- 
self. So understand now your own weakness. Plume your- 
self no more upon your wisdom — you have none ; pride 
yourself no more upon your philosophy — it is killed ; killed 
by a girl’s cry ! 

“ As I sit here alone, I am amused at the satire of the 
thing ; the humor of the fact is fine ! Too bad that it can 
never be enjoyed by the world at large ! but the least I can 
do in all respect for you, Richard, is to hide your downfall 
from others. As for Kate herself — she does not, she never 
will need me ; and I — I — well, I will never do her any 
harm. I have changed my mind about writing in this book. 
I find that now I can talk to myself. No thought of an 
audience comes now. It is so easy to keep a book safe ; 
and if I do not speak, I shall choke ! Fool, that you are, 
Richard ! Fool that you have been, and fool that you 
always will be ! But at least, in the future, let me hope that 
you will not be a conceited one ! Good-night — to-morrow 
will be a new day.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Perhaps no one sport impels one to be their natural 
selves quite as surely as horseback riding. If you are a 
good rider, you feel exhilarated, pleased and happy, and 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


Ill 


when one is that, affectation is impossible. If you are but 
an indifferent one, the need of keeping all your mind 
employed in guiding your steed, calming his eccentricities 
and soothing his caprices, holding your own on his back, in 
short, is a business of moment, if not momentous. Either 
extreme is an antidote to over-much dignity, self-conceit, or 
arrogance. 

As the four horses stood stamping and pawing in front of 
the Princess Hotel, waiting for their riders, the small 
opinion of two very small negroes who had charge of the 
four was humiliating as a commentary. 

“ Whose goin’ to ride dese here — do you know, George?” 

“ Hi ! what for you ask me dat ? Some white folk — folks 
from de States, who aint used to ridin’, and who’s gwine to 
show folks here dat dey is; dat’s who.” 

Just as they finished speaking, Kate and Dr. Sinclair, 
Emily and Allison, Mr. and Mrs. Weston made their 
appearance. Like many of the daughters of wealthy Ameri- 
cans, Kate had been through a course at a fashionable 
riding-school, and was a fairly good rider. 

Emily rode superbly, as most English girls do. Allison 
rode easily, with audacious dexterity. He would have 
attempted anything — from running a foot-race, to guiding a 
new flying-machine, if either had been suggested to him, 
and probably would have succeeded equally well with them 
all. Dr. Sinclair rode with the assurance that came from 
long practice, having in his early medical career cantered 
up and down country roads to visit his patients. 

Mrs. and Mr. Weston seated themselves in an open victo- 
ria, preferring that method of movement. All were going 
to see the soldiers drill and parade over on Prospect Hill, 
that being one of the points on the Island where a detach- 
ment of troops are located. 

England guards her possessions well ; there being upon 
this one small territory of Bermuda troops at St. George’s 
(the northeastern point of the Island), this camp at Pros- 
pect Hill, near the center, also detachments at Ireland and 
Boaz Islands, the northwestern districts, and at Norwich on 
the southern slope. 

From Hamilton to Prospect Hill was but a short drive, 


II2 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


and all had decided that it would be a pleasant way of 
passinjy a morning. 

“ I say, Miss Emily, that wasn’t fair,” said Allison, “ you 
jumped on his back before I knew it.” 

Emily smiled demurely, and said: “Really, Mr. Allison, 
it didn’t occur to me to wait for you.” 

“ No, I suppose not,” grumbled Allison; “ it never does, 
but here’s one of your gloves you dropped in the hall, maybe 
you will accept that from me.” 

My gauntlet! Oh, thank you! ” said the fair English 
girl sweetly, “ I am g;reatly obliged to you.” 

Dr. Sinclair quietly handed Kate to her saddle, and then 
springing into his own, reined his horse by her side. The 
small darkies were given their expected shillings, and sprang 
aside, out of the way; the driver of Mr. Weston’s carriage 
chirruped to his horses, and off they started. Down they 
went the short slope from the hotel, turned to the right, 
and trotted and galloped down Front Street. 

“Don’t you think this bonnet is pretty, John ?” asked 
Mrs. Weston as they rolled along. “ I got it here too — 
right there, in that store we just passed. I really was quite 
surprised to find they could get me up such a gem. How 
do you like it? ” 

“ Very nice, very nice indeed, my dear, most becoming 
thing I ever saw you have on,” answered Mr. Weston, smiling 
good-naturedly at her beautiful face, and not knowing 
whether it was new or not, or whether he had seen it every 
day for year, or if this were his first view of it. 

She smiled back again with satisfaction, and said serenely: 
“ Thank you, John. I’m so glad it pleases you, for I 
always depend so on your taste.” Seeing that her bigger 
half never at any period of their home-rule had ever had 
the option of offering his advice beforehand, this placid 
statement was curious. . It goes to show that arbitrary rul- 
ing, even in a matter of bonnets, saves the incapables 
much labor, and often adds materially to their comfort 
and happiness. Some such thought as this passed 
through Mr. Weston’s mind as he glanced speculatively 
at the mass of ribbon and flowers— to him an insolvable 
enigma, 


STOLEN- AMERICA. H3 

Allison and Emily cantered on ahead after a while, leav- 
ing Kate and Dr. Sinclair behind the carriage. 

“ We’ll go on ahead and tell them you're a-coming,” 
called out Allison gaily, as he passed, “ so that they’ll be 
sure to look their prettiest.” 

“All right, Fred,” answered Mr. Weston, “ only don’t 
break your neck before you get there.” 

“ Not much,” he shouted back again ; then to Emily he 
said with mock seriousness : “ Hardly ! Why, I’ve just 

bought a dozen Picadilly collars. I’ll have to save my neck 
for them, wont I ? ” 

“ If you wish to get the use of the collars, I should say, 
yes,” replied that maiden sedately. 

Allison glanced at her, having an exasperating wish to 
catch and kiss her right there and then. “ Did you ever 
want to bite a baby. Miss Emily ?” he asked irrelevantly. 

“ Bite a baby ! why, no, Mr. Allison, what a strange ques- 
tion,” answered Emily, opening her blue eyes wide in 
wonder and astonishment. “Why, what made you ask 
that ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing!” ejaculated Allison, flicking the flies off his 
horse rather viciously, “ only I have.” 

Emily regarded him seriously a moment with infant-like 
gravity, and then bent over and talked to her horse.’ 

Dr. Sinclair occasionally rode to the side of the carriage 
and talked to Mr. and Mrs. Weston, but the greater part of 
the way he and Kate kept behind them, speaking but little. 
Kate was ever a better listener than a talker, and this morn- 
ing Dr. Sinclair seemed to be in a quiet mood. 

In course of time they reached Prospect Hill, a fine plateau 
where the Barracks are situated. Music there was none, 
only a general hurrying to and fro of soldiers from their 
quarters getting ready for their drill. Great sturdy fellows, 
who looked as if they could face lions, dodged the chance 
of being seen in “ fatigue suit ” by visitors. 

“We are a little early, it seems,” said Mr. Weston to Dr. 
Sinclair, as he pulled out his watch. “ But I guess it 
doesn’t matter much.” 

“No, ’’ answered Dr. Sinclair absently, looking off over 
the hills below them, “No.’’ He did not know that uncon- 


114 


Stolen America. 


sciously he had taken hold of the arm of Kate’s saddle and 
had pointed to the beautiful view below them. Kate was 
equally blind, and for a moment or two, as they sat there 
on their horses, both faces dreamy and absorbed, marked by 
the same feeling, they made a lovely picture. It seemed 
so to Mr. Weston as he looked at them, first with pleasure, 
then with a tinge of sadness. 

“I say,” said Allison to Mrs. Weston, “see that man on 
horseback over there? He’s a Colonel. Handsome, isn’t 
he? He’s trying to show off, just because you’re here. See 
liQw he makes his horse dance.” 

“Oh, Fred!” said Mrs. AVeston, “what an absurd boy 
you, are — as if he noticed me at all!” But all the same she 
coquettishly straightened the pretty bonnet on her head and 
held her parasol at a graceful angle. “I wonder if he isn’t 
coming this way — it looks like it. No,” disappointedly, “he 
was only turning round.” 

‘‘I say. Miss Emily,” asked Mr. Weston, “how many 
men have they stationed here, do you know?” 

“I am exceedingly sorry I cannot tell you,” replied the 
girl, her pretty face looking regretful, “but I really can’t 
say. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘Why, papa ! ’ ’ said Kate, ‘ ‘how should Miss Emily know ; 
I’m sure I couldn’t tell you how many men we have at For- 
tress Monroe or West Point. But here’s the Doctor, he’s 
a walking encyclopedia; perhaps he can tell us — how many. 
Doctor?” 

“More than I can say,” softly replied the Doctor, still 
dreamily looking off over the valley below. 

“More than you can say!” broke in Allison flippantly; 
“that’s just my trouble, exactly.” 

The others laughed at the comical face Allison made as 
he said this, which aroused the Doctoi from his reverie. 
“Ah, what was that you were asking, Miss Kate?” he said. 

“I wanted to know,” said Mr. AVeston, “how much of a 
force they had here? How many men ; do you know?” 

“No, I don’t; that’s something that I haven’t yet hunted 
up. I mean to, though, for the comparison of forces is inter- 
esting to me. Must be considerable, taken altogether — as 
Bermuda is, next to Malta, England’s most important military 


STOLEN AMERICA. 115 

and naval station. The Governor of the island is a gentle- 
man of unusual intelligence and all are under his rule. He 
would have to be a man of unusual ability, for in the case of 
any skirmish or trouble with any other country, as for instance, 
our own America, for whatever action he might take would 
be of important political significance. I should say though,” 
continued the Doctor, smiling, “that is, without actual 
count, that they have one-third as many soldiers on this 
small island as all the actual commissioned and enlisted 
strength of the United States Army put together.” 

‘‘Nonsense, man!” said Mr. Weston. ‘‘You don’t know 
what you are talking about.” 

‘‘Oh, you’re way off,” broke in Allison confidently. 

‘‘How much is it? can you tell me that?” answered Dr. 
Sinclair quietly. 

‘‘No, well no; that is, not exactly,” said Mr. Weston. 
‘‘A good many thousands though.” 

‘‘Besides, you forget the militia!” said Allison, triumph- 
antly. 

‘‘No : I don’t forget the militia, but that is not thoroughly 
organized in all the States, and, all told, it does not amount 
to so very much.” 

‘‘Come — how much now?” said Allison. 

“Yes, tell us. Doctor,” said Kate. ‘‘I never heard, but I 
have always imagined there were lots of soldiers only wait- 
ing to be called on in case of need.” 

The Doctor smiled as he answered: ‘‘Unfortunately I have 
too good a memory for statistics, and it was not so very long 
ago that I glanced over some items in that line. Our com- 
missioned United States Army is not quite 27,000 men, 
with a little over 2000 officers.” 

“Impossible!” exclaimed Mr. Weston. Allison whistled, 
and the ladies exclaimed. 

“Our organized militia,” continued the Doctor, “numbers 
scant 100,000 men with about 7800 officers.” 

There was a pause for a moment, and then Mr. Weston 
said slowly : “And is that all the army that our great Ameri- 
can government really has to fall back upon?” 

“All the trained army — yes, excluding what naval force 
we possess.” 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


ii6 

“Fiddle-de-dee ! “ said Allison, snapping his fingers, “what 
difference does that make? Aren’t you here and Mr. Wes- 
ton and myself, willing to fight, if any of those fools across 
the water try to ride over us? And aint we backed by 
thousands of others?’’ 

“That’s so, Fred,’’ nodded Kate, her face all alight with 
feeling. “And there’s ever so many sisters and wives and 
mothers back of them, too!’’ 

“The number of citizens who, in case of a war with a 
foreign power, might be enrolled in the militia,’’ said the 
Doctor, “is about six and a half millions.’’ 

“That’s a good many,’’ said Mr. Weston gravely, “but 
men alone are not all that is required.’’ 

“Very true,’’ agreed the Doctor; “we have comparatively 
nothing to fight with.’’ 

“Pshaw!’’ broke in Allison, “I guess we could soon get 
up what would be needed. We were not so slow in the late 
unpleasantness, were we, in finding what was wanted?’’ 

“Our navy,’’ went on the Doctor, “is a by-word, a fair 
target for ‘Puck’s’ cartoons and editorial leaders of all kinds. 
It is so small in size and weak in power, that it would count 
as a mere bagatelle against such powers as France, Great Brit- 
ain, or Russia. This would not matter so much if it were 
ngtior the great extent of our sea-coast. That is our glory, 
but, alas! our weakness at the same time. Did you know, 
^ilr. Weston, that in point of actual army strength the United 
States was not even equal to Spain? They have in cavalry 
13, artillery 10, and infantry 60; the United States has 
cavalry 10, artillery 5, infantry 25. As for Great Britain, 
France, Germany, and Russia, they are so far beyond us, that 
comparison is absurd.’’ 

“I have often thought,’’ nodded Mr. Weston gravely, “of 
what would be the outcome if we got into any trouble with 
any of those fellows over there; but I really didn’t know we 
were quite as poorly off as we are.’’ 

“It’s very short-sighted of our great men in Congress,’’ 
said the Doctor, “not to see the possibility of what may 
happen.’’ 

“Why,” said Allison, “there are new war-ships building 


STOLEN AMERICA. 117 

now. We ar’n’t goin’ to be left so very far behind — don’t 
you believe it.” 

“How much difference is there, Doctor,” asked Kate, 
“between our navy force and that of Great Britain — say? 
Very much difference?” 

“A sad difference, Miss Kate. Why, our entire navy, 
all told, including the new ships Mr. Allison mentions (which 
are not yet built) only amounts to loo vessels, and of these 
one-fourth are only tugs and receiving ships. Ou[ Govern- 
ment possesses ten navy yards, or Stations; but, alas! they 
are pretty barren ones. Of these of course Portsmouth, 
N. H.; Charlestown near Boston; Brooklyn Navy Yard, and 
the one at Philadelphia are the largest in area, but the train- 
ing schools at Newport and at Fort Monroe are not to be 
despised,” said the Doctor gravely. “If any sudden trouble 
should arise between the United States Government and 
Great Britain, we could not count on our Navy. Why, 
Enlgand has 400 vessels in commission, 100 on harbor ser- 
vice, and at least 20 ships of the Cunard and White Star lines 
that could, in an emergency, be pressed into service.” 

“Is it possible!” exclaimed Mr. Weston. 

“Yes,” nodded the Doctor, “she always guards her pos- 
sessions well.” 

“Humph!” said Allison, looking rather subdued, “then 
I suppose if England kicks us, all we can do is to smile and 
look pleasant, and say, ‘Thank you, my lord,’ hey?” 

“Fred!” exclaimed Kate indignantly. 

“Hardly that, I hope, ” smiled the Doctor. “I think we 
have one resource left us, if only it is not attended to too 
late.” 

“And that?” said Mr. Weston. 

“That is, our coast defences^" answered the Doctor, 
seriously. 

“Oh!” interrupted Kate passionately. “Oh that I were 
a man but for one single day!” 

“Why, Kate,” laughed Allison, “what good would that 
do you? What would you do?” 

“ I should protect my country ! ” answered Kate. “ If I 
were not a girl — just an ignorant girl who knows nothing, I 
could say what ought to be done, and I would help do it ! 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


ii8 

I would spur other men on to work, and strive and shield 
and keep the lovely land we have ! Is there any land more 
beautiful than America ? Is there any land more broad and 
free ? Is there any land where nature gives out more to 
feed and clothe ? Is there any land where there are more 
happy homes ? Is there any land where women are as 
happy? Is there any land where men are nobler or more 
brave ? No ! And if our Government make mistakes, 
what then ? Faults are not vices, nor errors crimes. We 
are a good country as we are — and we want no queen nor 
czar to come and rule over us ! ” 

“ Why, Kate,” said Mr. Weston in surprise, “ it seems 
strange to hear you turn orator.” 

Kate, my child,” interrupted Mrs. Weston, “ I beg you 
not to interest yourself in politics ! It’s bad enough for the 
men to have to do that ; but ladies — well, they should avoid 
the subject,” she finished complacently. 

“ Politics, mamma ! ” exclaimed Kate, “ I know very little 
about them. I wish I knew more ; but I know that I love 
America, my country, and I know that I would die for it ! ” 
Deep feeling of any sort is magnetic, and, like the elec- 
tric current, sends its thrill of life through all its touches. 
Allison’s boyish face lit up with answering enthusiasm. 
Mr. Weston felt a glow of pride rare to him, the fair 
English girl, reining her horse by Kate, gave her hand one 
sympathetic clasp, while Dr. Sinclair’s heart beat in great 
bounds, and he felt filled with a new and grand resolve. 
Looking at Kate, his face tense and powerful, he said : “ I 
used to scorn patriotism as being provincial ; I do not 
think so now. It is no more narrow than the love a 
man should have for his wife or his mother, a natural and 
noble distinction from the love he would bear his brother or 
his friend. If you were a man for a day. Miss Kate, that 
would not suffice. You would have to be a man for per- 
haps some weary years before you could accomplish any- 
thing. But,” he added, smiling slowly, “ would it aid you 
in any way if you could have a man as your deputy ? As 
the carrier out of your wishes — say ? ” 

What do you mean ? ” flashed Kate, turning her eyes all 
alight full upon him. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


iig 


I mean,” said the Doctor, still speaking slowly, that if 
you thought I would suit, that — I — would — be — that — man.” 

Kate dropped her reins on the horse’s neck and held out 
both hands to him impulsively. “ Do you mean what you 
say ? ” she cried. 

“ I do,” smiled the Doctor gravely. 

“ Thank you ! ” answered her clear tones with a sort of 
chime in them like music, “Oh, thank you ! ” 

Mr. Weston coughed very vigorously for a moment or 
two, young Allison sat winking his eyes suspiciously fast, 
but Mrs. Weston said querulously : “ I wish I knew what 
you are all getting so excited about. Oh, there ! See ! 
They’re forming at last. Oh, what a lot of them ! Do tell 
the driver to turn round a little, John; I can’t half see 
here.” 

This broke the spell. Mr. Weston gave the order to 
their coachman to go nearer to the parade-ground, and the 
others followed them slowly. 

It was indeed a sight worth seeing, the red-coated men, 
marching in a line like pieces of machinery, mechanically 
true to their places. 

“ How much brighter and nicer they look in their red 
uniforms than the dull blues we have,” said Mrs. Weston to 
Emily. 

“ Do you think so ? ” she answered. “ I can’t say that I 
care for the army at all. It all seems so terrible to me — 
don’t you know.” 

“ But how handsome the officers look ! ” murmured Mrs. 
Weston back again. 

“ It does seem a pity,” said Mr. Weston musingly, “ that 
so many fine fellows may some day be cut down like so 
much wheat before the mower. It seems too bad that the 
powers that be cannot settle the matter by legislation.” 

“ Yes,” assented the Doctor ; “ war is a relic of barbar- 
ism, but it will kill itself in time, I’ve no doubt. Even now, 
the tactics necessary are very different from those required 
fifty years ago. With the new inventions of terrible des- 
tructive agencies come the inventions by equally great minds 
to annul their power, — and so it will keep on, I fancy, until 
an International Conference of all the powers of the earth 


t20 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


will be a literal fact. Then, of course, we wont have the 
Millennium, but we’ll have much greater prosperity.” 

' “ I have often wished that there could be such a thing as 
an International Conference, but I suppose the thing would 
be impracticable ? ” said Mr. Weston. 

“ Did you ever read any of Sir Henry Maine upon Inter- 
national Law ? ” asked Dr. Sinclair. 

“I? No, indeed,” laughed Mr. Weston. “We busi- 
ness men haven’t time for such things as that, you know.” 

“ No, I suppose not — but it seems to me that there ought 
to be some way of giving general information on such a 
subject without all turning into students. Since I stopped 
practicing medicine I have looked a little into almost every- 
thing, and fortunately my memory usually retains what I 
have once read. The nearest approach to anyone universal 
agreement of all Nations upon any given point was in 1854, 
called ‘ The Declaration of Paris.’ I can’t quote it entire to 
you, but I remember that it bore upon the subject of mari- 
time matters. Maine says that it received the assent of all 
the civilized nations of the world, with the exception of the 
United States. It seems that Mr. Marcy, who was Secre- 
tary of State at that time, refused to agree to the first article 
in the new agreement, ‘ Privateering is abolished ’ ; and so 
the one grand chance of a great and universal union upon 
a point of international law fell through. This refusal of 
America to agree to this declaration rendered it therefore 
not binding as a law of nations. No doubt Marcy knew 
what he was about at the time — but it seems a pity that the 
law could not have been made universal. It would have 
been a wedge for more to follow, you see.” 

Kate had listened attentively to what Dr. Sinclair and 
her father had been saying, but Mrs. AVeston, Allison, and 
Emily were carrying on an animated chatter about the 
relative merits of the marching qualities of English and 
American soldiers. 

“ Pshaw ! ” said Allison in disgust. “ West Point Cadets 
could beat these all hollow.” 

“ They are lads, are they not ; youths about your own 
age?” asked Emily innocently. 

“ No,” said Allsion, a pucker between his byows. “ Not 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


I2I 


at all my age. Did you ever see the Seventh Regiment of 
New York march, Miss Emily? ” he questioned sternly. 

“ I ? Oh, of course not, Mr. Allison. I’ve not yet been 
to the States, you know.” 

“ Ah, that’s so, I remember now,” answered Allison con- 
descendingly. 

Emily simply lifted up her lovely blue eyes and gravely 
regarded him. He couldn’t stand that, and in a second more 
broke out into a laugh and hummed : 

“ I’m Captain Jinks of the horse marines, 

I feed my horse on corn and beans, 

Of course it’s quite beyond my means, 

But I’m Captain in the Army ! 

“ Ever hear that lovely song. Miss Emily? Years ago, 
when I was in short dresses, they used to sing that in America 
about the streets. I’m awfully sorry it’s out of style now, 
for it’s fine, I think.” 

“ It’s quite jolly,” smiled Emily back again, with the 
broad English accent. 

“I say,” said Allison, “dp you know you English make 
ever so much more out of that word the way you say it than 
we Americans do? We say 'jolly,' short and quick, you 
know, like that. You say ‘jo-lly,’ and it sounds as if all 
sorts of good things were right back of it there in your 
mouth just waiting to come out.” 

After about half an hour’s standing and viewing of the 
soldiers’ drill, all were quite ready to agree to Allison’s 
proposal to ride over to the Elbow Bay to see the sand 
glacier and the Pink Beach. This last named is formed of 
pink .sand composed mostly of broken shells and coral. It 
was heavy riding getting there. After they reached the 
southern shore, the wheels of the carriage sank inches into 
the yielding sand, and the horses lifted their feet very care- 
fully and sniffed the air curiously as- if wondering why their 
riders had brought them into such a strange country. Mr. 
and Mrs. Weston were quite glad to rest in the shade of a 
small group of cedar-trees ; Allison and Emily went plung- 
ing about like the children they were — now here — now there 
-^picking up shells and arguing over nothing, while Dr, 


122 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


Sinclair and Kate, with characteristic ambition, determined 
to go and see “ where that house was that was almost entirely 
covered up by the moving of the Sand Glacier,” according 
to the interesting description in Stark’s Guide-book of 
Bermuda. They found it, after a longer time than seemed 
really needed, considering the short distance that they went ; 
and they looked at it very carelessly, considering the eager- 
ness they had originally manifested to see it ; and they left 
it, and settled themselves comfortably down on the sand, near 
some scrubby cedar-trees, with a disregard for their weary 
steeds and waiting companions that was unusual, to say the 
least. 

“How curious that was,” said Kate, taking up a handful 
of sand and letting it run through her slender fingers. 

“Yes,” said Dr. Sinclair, “it was curious, but it is com- 
mon, Miss Kate — common in more ways than one. Man 
builds his house and home, and the days come upon it, one by 
one, wave by wave; the sands of time come, and at first they 
only touch the outer rim of his land and he says: ‘Ah! It 
is coming, I see! I am getting old and he stands there in 
the strength of his youth and feels proud. A little more and 
it touches his doorstep. ‘So!’ he says, ‘I am a man in- 
deed now.’ A little longer yet, and he throws a protecting 
arm about his wife. ‘Steady, dear,’ he says, ‘the sands are 
creeping on us; but we need not fear!’ Then days and 
days go by, and slowly and slowly the sands of time creep 
up and, — ah! Miss Kate,” he said abruptly, “I cannot finish 
the figure, the ending is too sad! But when I looked at that 
one remaining, pathetic — that chimney of a house — all that 
was left of what had once been man’s habitation, and that 
soon too, to be buried beneath the sands of oblivion, the old 
unrest came over me, and a touch. of the old desperation.” 

“Yes,” responded Kate, “I know.” 

“You see,” went on this philosopher and man of the world, 
talking to this girl of twenty as if she had lived through just 
what he had, — “you see, the whole thing seems to be so un- 
fair. It is like the old epitaph in the churchyard upon the 
baby, who says: 

“ If I was so soon to be done for 
What was I ever begun for ? ” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


123 


Kate laughed and then said : “Yes, that was always funny ; 
but he wasn’t ‘done for,’ you know. He had only gone on 
into another world than this.’’ 

“You think so?’’ said the Doctor. . 

“I feel it — no — I know it!’’ said Kate with conviction. 
“It would be absurd, now, wouldn’t it — if the great Crea- 
tor who made us had less sense than we have? If he made 
us — and somebody or something did — we didn’t will our- 
selves into existence, did we? Well, then, surely the Power 
that made* us is greater than ourselves. That’s true, isn’t 
it? And if greater, then how can we think that our sense 
of justice and the fitness of things will be stronger than His? 
Can we have aspirations higher than the designs of the one 
who made us? It all seems so simple to me,’’ went on the 
girl, seriously; “I can see why people will think those sad, 
despairing sort of things. I can see just how desperate they 
could feel ; I think I have felt it all — but I do not see,’’ and 
here her voice took a sort of ring to it — “I do not see how 
they could keep on feeling sad and forlorn; I don’t see! 
Why, there is so much to be done!’’ she said. Her hands 
dived into the sand and carelessly she lifted and dropped it 
into her lap. 

Dr. Sinclair watched her fingers as if they were the guid- 
ing-star of his horizon. “Yes,’’ he said, “there is much to 
be done.’’ 

Kate lifted a handful of sand and it trickled slowly through 
her fingers — lifted it again, and they both watched it drop- 
ping to the last grain. 

‘I meant what I said to day,’’ said the Doctor suddenly. 

“Yes,’’ said Kate, “I thought you did; but since I have 
thought that — it couldn’t be, you know.’’ 

“Why noD’’ said the Doctor. 

“Oh, I don’t know. You have your profession — other 
ties and interests; I was silly to act as I did,’’ said Kate, 
flushing to her forehead. “But when I think of how much 
there is to be done in the world, and how I long to do some 
of it, and when I think of America, our lovely land, and 
how much it needs help in every way, my heart just aches,’’ 
said the girl, simply. “It is so beautiful — America! I 
don’t think most Americans know just how beautiful. All 


124 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


the books written speak of the beauties of other lands, but 
little is told of our own. People rave over the sunny fields 
of France, and would not deign to glance at the golden 
slopes in Jersey. New Yorkers talk of the Bay of Naples; 
and are blind to the beauty of our Narrows and glorious 
New York Harbor. Poets write of the Rhine, and forget 
our majestic, picturesque Hudson. Clever artists paint 
views of home life in Normandy or Holland, and pass 
by equally quaint pictures in Pennsylvania or on Long 
Island. The green fields and slopes of Old England are not 
to be compared to the fertile valleys of the New in the beau- 
tiful Berkshire Hills; and yet, where are they spoken of? 
Is Brighton to be compared to Newport, or the Heather 
Hills of Scotland to our noble Catskills? And then our 
grand Adirondacks, picturesque Florida, magnificent Ni- 
agara, and sublime canons of the great West! Oh, it would 
take many people. Dr. Sinclair, to tell of our country, and 
no one person speaks for it! That is what hurts me. No 
one seems to know how beautiful — no one seems to see how 
grand it is! We are the richest nation in the world, I think, 
because we have everything. It is not alone one thing, but 
all things — the treasures of the earth are ours, of sky and 
see and land! But the best people, men like my father, for 
instance, are so busy making money that they haven’t time 
for anything else.” 

“ I think you are right there,” agreed the Doctor; “ if there 
is any one trait greatly wanting in American men, as a mass, 
it is a lack of public national spirit. But it will come, Miss 
Kate. It has already started, I think.” 

Kate looked at him and smiled. The Doctor looked in 
return, an honest glance of loving reverence for her. She 
felt the comfort of it, without, knowing why, and said : “ I 
feel as if I had known you all my life. Dr. Sinclair ; I feel as 
if I knew you so well.” 

“ I am glad you have not known me all my life ; I am 
glad you do not know me well,” answered the Doctor. 

“ Oh ! ” said Kate, with a girlish pout and hurt inflection 
in her voice ; “ Oh, you are very complimentary. Dr. Sin- 
clair ! ” 

“ It is a compliment to you,” replied the Doctor, “ and it 




The Floating Dock, Ireland Island, Bermuda. 



STOLEN AMERICA. 


125 


is a relief to me. Because you have not known me in the 
past in all my contemptible wickedness, because you do not 
now sound the depth of my weakness. I have the courage to 
hope that I may so live in the future, that to really know 
me will be no harm to you, Kate.” His voice trembled as 
he said her name and his face looked strangely moved. 
Kate’s bright face flushed, and she felt unaccountably stirred 
also. It was the first time that Dr. Sinclair, whom she 
admired so much, had ever said a word that was personal — 
that seemed to be really of himself and for her alone. 

She glanced rather shyly up at him ; and, such is the 
perverseness of woman, what she saw there in his face of 
suffering, had the effect of making her heart feel light and 
happy 

“ What nonsense you are talking. Dr. Sinclair ! ” she 
said, merrily. “ You couldn’t harm me if you tried ! Come,” 
rising to her feet and holding out her hand to him, “ can I 
help you up ? ” 

“ Yes, always ! ” he answered, springing and catching 
hold of her hand ; “ always you can help me, Kate,” still 
holding her hand. ‘‘I know it is an old-fashioned word ; 
but will you let me be your knight-errant ? Will you let me 
help you do what you want done — and cannot do alone ? 
I am not good for much — but what I can do, will you let 
me do ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the girl, her eyes sparkling with happy 
mischief ; “ yes — I will give you something to do at once. 
See, my horse has strayed, and is away off, over there. Will 
yon be so kind. Sir Knight, as to induce him to wander back 
again this way ? I think it is time we found the others, and 
I don’t care about walking to them, with this train.” She 
lifted aside her dark green riding-skirt as she spoke, and 
stood there, lovely in her youth and mischief. 

“ To hear is to obey, Lady Kate,” replied the Doctor, and 
plowing through the heavy sand as best he might, he finally 
captured the runaway. 


126 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Two weeks have passed by since the visit to Prospect 
Hill. The pretty steam yacht Moonedyne at the foot of the 
Princess Hotel was fretting to be off. It puffed and snorted 
occasionally as if it was tired to death of listening to the 
chatter of human folk that were so slow coming aboard. 
Quite a large party from the Princess had engaged her to 
take them to Ireland Island to see the batteries and the 
dockyard. Permission had been obtained from the Gover- 
nor to go over the forts and to the great floating dock. 
The bright sunlight made the blue waters sparkle like sap- 
phires, and instilled into the hearts of all a reflection of its 
own sunny merrymaking. Colonel Martin, being one of the 
best posted upon all the points of interest, was the head of 
the expedition, and as he stood there, directing them where 
to take their seats, a right brave commander he was, look- 
ing every inch the soldier and the gentleman, 

“ This way, Mrs. Weston, if you’ll be so kind. Oh, no — 
take that chair ; I can’t have you sit upon that bench, you 
know.” He handed her grandly to her seat and stood one 
foot on the railing, extending his hand for the next lady. 
“ Now, Mrs. Byrd, if you please. Mrs. Gascoigne, allow 
me. Miss Kate, sit here, will you not ?” 

“ Me next,” broke in Allison, holding out both his hands 
with affected timidity. “ Oh, Colonel ! I’m so afraid — 
that’s so far to step ! ” 

“ Let me lift you, then,” said the Colonel, and before 
Allison or any one else was aware of his intention, he seized 
him with both hands about his slim figure and lifted him 
into the boat. 

Then such a shout as went up. “ Good for you, Colonel,” 
cried Mr. Weston ; “Serves y-ou right, Fred, for always 
making such a goose of yourself.” 

“Can I not you fan?” said Count Saviotti, waving his 
handkerchief in front of Allison’s flushed face. 

“ I didn’t know you were so strong. Colonel,” laughed 
Kate. 

“ You are not hurt, are you, Mr. Allison ?” asked Emily 
with (^uiet concern. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


127 


“ Hurt ! hurt ! ” exclaimed Allison with mock indigna- 
tion ; “ I should say I was hurt ! Not in my body — no, I 
scorn it — but in my feelings, sir — my feelings ! You shall 
answer for this (to the Colonel) to-morrow morning, sir — 
coffee and pistols for two.” 

“ But, my dear young sir,” answered the Colonel, with a 
twinkle in his eye, “ I don’t drink coffee, I can’t, don’t you 
know.” 

“ Well, then, we’ll make it a bottle of champagne, at your 
expense, and call it square — hey ? ” 

“Oh, Fred !” said Kate, “sit down here and behave 
yourself.” 

“ Oh ! here comes Dr. Sinclair,” said Mr. Weston. “ I 
say, Doctor, we thought you had gone up the road on some 
fossil hunt or other, and forgotten that you were to go with 
us. How are you?” 

“ First rate,” smiled the Doctor, as the two men shook 
hands, “Good-morning, everybody,” bowing comprehen- 
sively ; then turning a little he added quietly, “ Good-morn- 
ing, Miss Kate.” 

“ Good-morning,” answered Kate lightly. “ Were you up 
the road this morning. Doctor ?” 

“ No, not this morning ; only lazy. I was in my room 
reading, to tell the truth, and did not realize it was so late.” 

After ten minutes more of talking and arguing and 
changing of places, finally every one was seated, and Colonel 
Martin himself stepped aboard. The signal was given to 
the engineer, and off they started. 

“ I say. Miss Emily,” said Allison enthusiastically, “ this 
Moonedyiie' s a duck, don’t you think so ?” 

“ Well, hardly, I think,” she smiled back at him, “ though 
she sits the water well. To be sure, she makes noise 
enough. She came from America, didn’t she ? ” She added 
innocently. 

Allison glared at her. It was one of those quiet sugges- 
tions that Emily often made, but always in that mild intan- 
gible way, that there was no resenting them. 

“ Yes, it came from New York,” he answered rather 
shortly. 

“ I thought so,” smiled the fair Bermudian sweetly. 


128 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


Which direction are we going, Colonel ? ” asked Dr. 
Sinclair. “ Down by the Sommerset coast, or the more 
direct route ? ” 

“ Oh, the usual way,” answered the Colonel ; ‘‘ we 

couldn’t see anything of Ireland if we took the long trip 
round, don’t you know.” 

“ It is very beautiful down that way,” said the Doctor ; 
“ don’t you think ? ” 

“Quite so — quite so,” assented the Colonel, “ but we 
can’t do it all in one trip ; have to have another day for 
that, for I take it that it’s Ireland Island we’re in for this 
morning, isn’t it ? ” 

“ I want to see the great floating dock and the war-ships,” 
said Kate ; “ don’t you, Mrs. Gascoigne ? ” 

“Oh, certainly,” answered Mrs. Gascoigne politely, 
although in reality she cared nothing for them. 

“ Oh, Colonel !” said Mrs. Weston pleadingly, “ can’t 
you sit over here ? It adds so to the interest of a trip like 
this, if some one points out the places as we go by, and I 
can’t half hear you over there.” 

“ I am really afraid there isn’t room, my dear madam,” 
answered the Colonel, reluctant to give up his seat near 
Kate ; “ but if you wish it, I’d just as soon stand up a 
while, and tell you about these points we are now passing.” 

“ Oh, you’re so kind ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Weston, looking 
up prettily at him — “ so kind. Colonel.” 

The poor Colonel left regretfully the seat he had man- 
aged so skillfully to secure for himself, and crossed over 
and stood near Mrs. Weston. 

“ That is Ager Island,” he said, “ that we are passing just 
now.” 

“ Pardon, Monsieur?” said Count Saviotti politely rising, 
“ mais take my seat ; den you can explain to Madam 
Wes-ton all de tings, and I will find anoder place — so ! 
Oh no — pas du tout : 9a ne me derange pas ! Do not it 
mention ! ” as the poor Colonel in vain tried to tell him 
that he did not wish to sit down. “ De odair suit me just 
as well,” and smiling and bowing he made his way to the 
chair vacated by the Colonel. “ II fait beau ce matin, 
Mademoiselle,” said the Count politely. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


129 


“ Oui, Monsieur,” answered Kate rather shyly. She 
much preferred the bluff, good-hearted Colonel, to Count 
Saviotti, but did not see, as Mr. Weston and Dr. Sinclair 
did, that the change of seats was other than a piece of polite 
kindness on the Count’s part. 

Mrs. Gascoigne was seated near Mrs. Byrd, and Dr. Sin- 
clair and Mr. Weston were on her left. She was content 
when she saw the Count established close to Kate, for 
although the presence of others made any conversation 
alone with Dr. Sinclair impossible, yet she had the satis- 
faction of knowing that at least he was near her, and not 
with Kate. Her spirits rose as the Moonedyne sped on, and 
she kept both the Doctor and Mr. Weston amused and 
interested with her bright questions and entertaining 
reminiscences. 

“ Talk about the beautiful blue Mediterranean ! Yes, it is 
blue, but one is the dull gray blue of old age, the other the 
sky-blue of sparkling youth. I remember it well, for I 
crossed over it, going to Algiers once, and I was greatly 
disappointed. It doesn’t compare with this.” 

“ It’s always a strange thing to me,” said Mr. Weston, 
“ that salt water will have such different colors, some places 
muddy looking, others pale green, and then, as here, blue. 
What’s the reason of it. Doctor, do you suppose ? ” 

“ Oh, it depends on what it holds in solution, I fancy,,” 
answered the Doctor, abstractedly. He was looking at 
Kate. She was talking with great animation to the Count, 
and her girlish face was “ lit up,” as Allison had termed it, 
with the light from within. He couldn’t hear just what she 
was saying, only catching a stray word now and then ; but 
the Count’s absorbed interest and enchained manner some 
way made him very miserable. But one could not indulge 
in the luxury of melancholy long when Allison was about. 
Just then he danced over to where they were and said : 

Come, Doctor, come, and see what I’ve caught ! Come 
quick or it’ll be gone.” 

“ Didn’t know you were fishing, Fred,” said Mr. Weston, 
rising to follow him. 

What is it,” asked the Doctor, half sighing, like one 
aroused from a dream ; “ a whale ? ” 


130 


STOLEN' AMERICA, 


“ No, it isn’t, but it’s a big specimen of a sponge, I can 
tell you,” said Fred eagerly. 

“ Sponge ? ” asked the Doctor. 

“ Yes, sponge. At least I think so. Got it with the 
grappling irons, you know.” 

“ No — I don’t know, but we’ll see,” said the Doctor, fol- 
lowing him to the end of the boat. 

The boy had borrowed a pair of long grappling shears 
and had indeed fished up a huge something. After consid- 
erable trouble it was taken off and proved to be a very valu- 
able specimen of coral and sponge together, oddly and 
grotesquely joined by nature into a shape not unlike a bird 
with wings outstretched 

“ Hold on ! ” exclaimed Allison excitedly, “ I have an 
idea ! ” 

“ Keep it,” smiled Mr. Weston, warningly. 

“ Oh, no, I’m going to give it away. There’s nothing 
mean about rhe,” said Allison glibly. “ Just wait a second.” 

Taking out his penknife, he cut off some of the sponge, 
crumbled away a little of the coral, and lo ! a very good 
representation of an eagle. 

“ Hurrah ! Three cheers and a tiger for America ! ” he 
cried. “ Who says we’re ever left ? Here’s our Bird of 
Freedom, not only not content with perching upon our own 
mountain-tops, but actually lives and thrives right under 
you Englishmen’s noses in your own waters ! Hip, hip, 
hurrah !” 

Of course everybody crowded around to see Allison’s 
eagle, and much fun and merriment was gotten out of it. 
It was finally tied by that ingenious youth to the side of the 
flag-pole, as a compromise to the Colonel, who refused to 
let him attempt to perch it on the top. 

“ Oh, very well,” said Allison, “ very well. We’ll leave it 
there for now ; but just you wait. It’s very quiet now, and 
obliged, because it’s wings are not quite grown, to take a low 
seat. But if it don’t get to the top some day,” standing with 
his hands in his pockets and eyeing it with admiration, “my 
name is not Frederick Allison.” 

In the meanwhile, the energetic little Moonedyne\i2,Ci been 
steaming on, and had passed Elizabeth Island and Pearl 


STOLEN- AALERICA. 


Island, and was now approaching Boaz Island, whereon 
some of the barracks could be seen. A little further, and 
Grassy Bay was reached, the Colonel pointing out the Naval 
Superintendent’s house to the west and the Commissioner’s 
house on East Point, and finally the great “ Camber,” or 
artificial basin, wherein lies the gigantic “ floating-dock ” of 
the world.. x-\fter considerable talking and noise, Colonel 
Martin succeeded in getting his rather irregular forces on 
land, and smiling with pardonable pride, led the way to do the 
honors of the island. All were obliged to register their 
names, occupation, and residence in a big book, which was 
the occasion of more fun and nonsense. 

“John Weston, Broker, New York,” was easily signed, and 
by its simple brevity gave very little idea of the power 
wielded by that gentleman over the fortunes of many of his 
fellow-men. 

Richard Sinclair, M.D., New York,” an irregular yet 
clear hand, some way looked much more commonplace than 
the man. 

The angular “ Count Saviotti (Gentleman) Paris, France,” 
written with true French elegence, was suggestive of a 
picturesque chateau and all that was grand. 

The ladies wrote their names in with retiring quietness, 
but Allison, in a large handsome signature, challenged the 
admiration of the book-keeper. He stared solemnly, how- 
ever, at what came after the name, for Allison had added 
with reckless daring, “ American Pilgrim, New York, U. 
S. A.” 

Probably to- this day he is puzzling his head over what 
order of “Fathers ” Allison belonged to. 

The Colonel took them first to the factories, where are the 
means of repairing the different portions of all sorts of 
vessels, but particularly England’s war-ships. From there, 
the polite officer whom the Colonel secured took them over 
all the main forts and to see the soldiers’ quarters and 
aboard some of those sea terrors, as the Scorpion^ Viper and 
Vixen. 

“ These look as if they mean business,” said Mr. Weston, 
as they stood upon the deck of the Scorpion. 

“ Yes,” said the officer, “ they do. This and the Monarch 


STOLEN' AMERICA. 


132 

are the only two full-rigged turret-ships of iron-clads. The 
Neptune^ formerly full-rigged, is larger, more heavily armed 
and better protected than the Monarch." 

“ Is this your most powerful war-ship ? ” asked Kate. 

“Well,” smiled the Colonel, “ hardly. You never saw the 
l 7 iflexible or Devastation^ or the Thunderer., did you ? ” 

“ No,” said Kate, “ never ; tell me about them.” 

“Well,” said the Colonel, “they are built to carry the 
heaviest possible guns and armor, to be very manageable, and 
to have a large supply of coal. The Inflexible is 320 feet 
long, and carries an armor weight of 3275 tons. The power 
of the ship is in its central part; its walls are 41 inches thick. 
In the center are two turrets nine feet high, and each hold- 
ing two 8o-ton guns, which fire lyoolb. shots, with a charge 
of 450 lbs. of powder.” 

“Phewrl ” whistled Mr. Weston. 

“ Are there many more of this same order ? ” asked the 
Doctor. 

“ A few,” politely answered the officer. “ The Dread- 
nought, Devastation, Thunderer, Colossus, Edinburgh, Vic- 
toria, Conqueror, Hero, Neptmie, Hotspur, Ajax — ” 

“Hold!” cried the Doctor, putting his hands up to his 
ears, “ that’s enough.” 

“I suppose,” said Mr. Weston, “these do not include the 
coast defense vessels?” 

“Oh no ! ” answered the Colonel, “ but this we are stand- 
ing on now, the Scorpion, properly comes under that head, 
doesn’t it ? ” turning to the officer. 

“I should say so. Colonel; as it is very similiar to the 
Glatton, the Cyclops, the Gorgon, Hecate, Hydra, Pruice Albert 
and Wivern." 

“ I don’t see why they need so many soldiers and vessels 
here,” said Allison, “ this whole island isn’t over twenty-five 
miles long, is it ? And who’s going to bother about this 
speck in the Ocean ?” 

“There, Fred,” said Mr. Weston gravely, “ is where you 
make a great mistake. This is a most valuable vantage- 
point. Why, think of it, if we had a war with England — 
think of the immense value of this strip of land! Only two 
days’ sail from Charleston and three from New York! ” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“Yes,’’ assented the Colonel, “our government is quite 
prudent. As early as 1783, we had Royal Artillery on this 
island. And at the close of the Civil War that you Ameri- 
cans had in the ‘ States ’ you know, we spent quite a penny 
arranging things here. We built these forts you now see, 
and prepared ourselves for any emergency. You Yankees 
were so uncertain, we were not quite positive, don’t you 
know, what you might fancy to do next.” 

“We were blind — blind!” said Mr. Weston with con- 
viction, “ not to try and get hold of this ! ” 

“ Just what I have often thought,” said Kate earnestly, 
“ that this island should belong to us.” 

“ Well, you Yankees were a trifle short-sighted,” said the 
Colonel complacently, “ but it’s no use crying over spilt 
milk, I take it.” 

“You were saying,” said the officer to Allison, “ that you 
couldn’t see the necessity of this island being so protected, 
sir. One reason is, that it is England’s greatest coaling 
station ; and yet another, is the safety of the floating-dock 
you observe over there.” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” answered Allison, “ I see. Queer-looking 
thing, isn’t it. Miss Emily ? Looks like the ribs of some 
great old animal of pre-historic ages, doesn’t it ? ” 

“Do you think so?” asked Emily, with her innocent 
quietness. 

“ Can we not go over there ? ” asked Mrs. Gascoigne. 

“ Certainly,” bowed the officer politely. “ This way, 
ladies and gentlemen, if you please.” 

They trooped after him, exclaiming as they walked along 
over the massive forts and batteries, built with great care 
and skill, and designed to afford the greatest possible protec- 
tion tj the dock-yard. 

“ This,” said the Colonel, “ is the famous floating-dock ! ” 

All stood quiet, eyeing its huge proportions in silence. 

“ It was launched in Sheerness in the year 1868,” said the 
officer, like a showman reciting his part, “and was towed 
across the Atlantic, and brought here and placed where it 
now stands, after a perilous passage of fifty-six days. You 
will observe it is 381 feet long, 124 feet broad, and 74 feet 
deep, large enough to receive the largest iron-clad ever 


134 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


built. It took two years to build it, and cost the Home 
Government just a quarter of a million sterling.”. 

“ Hum,” said Mr. Weston, “ that’s about a million in our 
money. When will we do anything like that, Sinclair 1 ” 
he smiled. 

“ When ? I don’t know just when — but I hope some day 
we’ll do that much and more.” His eyes flashed, his whole 
bearing took a more upright carriage, and he looked at Kate 
involuntarily. Kate just smiled at him — but such a smile ! 
It spoke of faith and belief in him and an understanding of 
what was in his mind and heart. 

“ Humph ! ” muttered Mr. Weston, glancing at them 
both ; “ so you two are going to try and fight wind-mills, 
are you ? Better not ; you’ll only get your trouble for your 
pains.” 

“ How many men have you in your navy ? ” asked Mrs. 
Gascoigne, not quite fully understanding, and not at all 
liking, the evident sympathy of Doctor Sinclair and Kate 
upon naval matters. She spoke to the officer, and looked 
the gracious lady. 

“ Well, I’m not quite sure,” he answered, “ but the appro- 
priation by Parliament for this year, 188-, was 62,400 men 
all told, counting about 5000 as boys.” 

“ And we,” broke in the Doctor, “ have by the appropria- 
tion of our Congress 9500 men and 750 boys. Quite a dif- 
ferent showing, isn’t it, Mr. Weston ? ” 

“Rather,” replied Mr. Weston laconically. “About how 
much a year does England spend on her navy ? ” he asked. 

“ Well, the ordinary annual expenditure, including what 
is disposed of in the way of pensions and gratuities, is 
about 1 3,000,000, I believe.” 

“ Good Lord ! ” ejaculated Allison ; “ about $65,000,000, 
in a year ! That makes me tired.” 

Mr. Weston’s face was growing graver and graver, as the 
conversation went on. “ I suppose there are some new 
ships to be built this year also? ” he asked quietly. 

“ Yes,” said the Doctor, “ I can tell you about that. Saw 
the list the other day. Eleven armored ships, 15 cruisers, 
29 unprotected vessels, and 16 torpedo-boats; the cost of 
building which will be about ;^4,ooo,ooo, or $20,000,000. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


J35 


Compare that, and then think of the paltry sums that our 
Congressmen have thought is all can afford. Why, dur- 
ing one whole administration of four years, we only gave 
$50,000,000. And England, you see, gave almost half of 
that in one year, outside of her huge ordinary expendi- 
tures.” 

“ Oh, I think war is horrible,” said Emily shuddering, 
“ and I should think that you Americans would be glad that 
your government didn’t spend money to keep up a stand- 
ing army and navy. You see,” she said naively, “ if you 
don’t have any soldiers and ships and guns, you can’t fight, 
can you ? You’ll have to make peace then if there should 
be any trouble with any other country, and that is so much 
better.” 

The Doctor laughed heartily : “ You have just stated 
from your point of view. Miss Emily, exactly the policy that 
the United States Government has been run on for so long. 
‘ The sight of means to do ill deeds, makes ill deeds done,’ 
you think ! Well, perhaps it does ; but, on the other hand, 
is there not such a thing as righteous indignation ? Is 
there not such a thing as national self-respect? Shall the 
shepherd refuse to build a fold to protect his lambs at night 
from the devouring wolves ! Shall we be blind, and neglect 
defenses that shall in time of trouble shield us from — (excuse 
me Colonel !. ) — the roaring British Lion, or the paw of the 
Russian Bear ? War, morally speaking, is the redress, by 
force of arms, of a national injury. And as long as human 
nature is human nature injuries are liable to occur. A cow- 
ard he who fails to defend his own ; and a greatly to be 
pitied fool he, who is not able to do it.” 

Kate’s eyes flashed in sympathy ; her whole face was 
alight. Mrs. Gascoigne looked the amazement she felt. 
Count Saviotti shrugged his shoulders, Mr. Weston gave 
the Doctor one sympathetic clap on his back ; while Allison, 
his hat on the back of his head and his boyish face all aglow, 
called out excitedly, “ I say, Doctor, good for you ! you’re 
a trump ! ” 

This outburst from Allison brought the Doctor very 
forcibly to a sense of where he was, and who was his audi- 
ence. He laughed to hide his feelings of annoyance at his 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


136 

own enthusiasm, and then turning to the officer, said: “ I sup- 
pose you have submarine mines here also ? ” 

“Oh, yes,” he replied, “they are always advisable, 
although having movable road batteries, that can guard 
points where stationary defenses are not situated, they are 
really scarcely necessary, I take it.” 

Then the party were taken over different forts, gazed at 
the mountains of coal piled up in case of need, and at last, 
tired out with seeing and walking, were glad to accept the 
officer’s courteous invitation to “come in and rest a bit.” 
Fruit and wine and a sort of sweet biscuit were then handed 
around to the company. When the wine was passed to Dr. 
Sinclair he politely refused it. 

“ Vot!” exclaimed Count Saviotti, “you do not take le 
vin. Doctor ! You surprise me ! ” 

“You will drink with me, I know. Doctor,” said Mrs. 
Gascoigne, lifting her glass up daintily. 

“ Excuse me — no,” answered the Doctor. 

Oh, well — some other time, then,” she nodded. 

He moved nearer to her and said quietly, “ Never again, I 
think, Mrs. Gascoigne.” 

“Why not?” she answered low. “ Has the little Puri- 
tan,” ( with a quick glance towards Kate ) — “ has she 
affected you so soon ? ” The amused sarcasm in her voice, 
speaking to the Doctor as it did with the force of many 
memories in common with the lovely mocking face before 
him, was hard for him to bear. He shrank inwardly and 
was tempted for a moment to drown her mockery and his 
own pain in the reckless indulgence that he knew so well. 
But only for a fleeting second ; then he said calmly : “Per- 
haps the little Puritan has had something to do with it ; but I 
do not intend to drink now, for precisely the same reason 
that made me drink before.” 

“And that, Richard?” she said. 

“Is that it brutalizes me. I wanted to accomplish that 
before — and I succeeded ; now I do not want to build up 
the animal in me, I wish to strengthen the man; therefore 
I intend to leave it alone.” 

She laughed a low, sweet laugh of mocking derision, and 
finally, her beautiful face sparkling with amusement, she 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


137 


lifted the glass to her lips and murmured; “Here’s to your 
new resolution, Bruin! May you keep it — until we can en- 
joy the breaking of it — alone — and together.” 

He turned from her abruptly, every nerve in his body 
tingling with the sting of her mockery. Ridicule is a weak 
weapon, but how few of us can stand against it! Perhaps 
the only thing that saved Dr. Sinclair then, was not his own 
philosophy or resolution, but the chance smile that Kate 
unconsciously gave him, as, looking up, she saw his face. 
She knew nothing of what had gone before, she did not 
know that this was his moment of weakness. Her smile 
only meant happy friendliness toward him, but it strength- 
ened him. Again the wave of comfort came over him, and 
he felt as if *he could do all things for her dear sake^ 

The trip homewards on the Moonedyne was quieter than 
the trip out, as Mr. Weston and Dr. Sinclair and Kate were 
thinking over what they had seen. Count Saviotti and Mrs. 
Gascoigne felt bored. Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Byrd were 
exchanging tired commonplaces and looking weary, while 
Allison declared to Emily “that he was too hungry to say a 
word.” 

In due time they reached the hotel in safety, and after 
dinner, the ladies having gone to their rooms to rest. Colonel 
Martin, Dr. Sinclair, and Mr. Weston sat in the hall of the 
office and talked over the visit of the morning. 

“It was a lesson to me,’’ said Mr. Weston, sitting with 
his chair on its two back legs tipped back against the wall, 
“to see how thoroughly everything was done over there. 
We Americans, I must say, do things in too great a hurry — 
that is, to a certain extent.’’ 

“Yes,” agreed the Doctor, “I think so. Still this same 
quickness of dispatch ought to be, and can be, I think, util- 
ized to great advantage. There are times when to have a 
thing done quickly, is of more avail than the same thing 
done more thoroughly, but slower.’’ 

“Can’t say I agree with you there. Doctor,’’ said the 
Colonel; “whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing 
well, isn’t it?” 

“Well, that depends,’’ said the Doctor. “Perfection in 
detail is an admirable thing, but it were better to attend to 


138 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


the main points first and polish up afterwards, don’t you 
think?” 

‘‘That’s so,” nodded Mr. Weston. 

‘‘Now what I was thinking about was this,” said the Doc- 
tor. ‘‘As perhaps you know, Mr. Weston,” he stammered 
rather awkwardly, ‘ ‘I have of late made up my mind to draw 
the attention, if I could, of the American people as a nation, 
to the necessity of Coast Defenses'" 

“Well, I believe you and Kate did have some such Quix- 
otic plan in your heads,” smiled Mr. Weston mercilessly. 

The Doctor could not quite control the wave of color that 
mounted up to his forehead, but he went on bravely: ‘‘And 
so for that purpose I have been looking into the matter more 
particularly than my desultory reading had hitherto informed 
me. I find that it is a big subject, and, of course, I can only 
hope to master it in its grand outlines, and forego the polish- 
ing. Now can you tell me where I could get definite infor- 
mation on the subject in England, Colonel?” 

‘‘Bless my soul, man ! ’’exclaimed the Colonel, ‘‘you’re not 
going into the thing seriously, are you?” 

‘‘Yes,” nodded the Doctor, “serious enough to make a 
business of it for a year or two.” 

‘‘How will you manage it?” said Mr. Weston practically. 

“How? Well, in the only way I feel I could do any- 
thing — by lectures. I am a great talker, you know — have a 
good memory; and we Americans like to be entertained. 
My idea was,” he said modestly, “to try and make them 
amusing.” 

‘‘Amusing!” ejaculated the Colonel. 

“A pretty tough subject for fun, I should say,” put in Mr. 
Weston. 

“There’s where you are mistaken,” said the Doctor de- 
cidedly. “Is there any wit brighter and clearer; is there 
any humor more full of laughter, than the political cartoons 
of our American and English comic papers? They are seri- 
ous enough topics, goodness knows, and yet public opinion 
is influenced, instructed, and in a measure guided by them. 
And in no country have the weekly papers a greater sale 
than in America, in no country are entertaining humorous 
lectures better attended than in our big American cities.” 


STOLEN /LUETIC A. 


139 


“That’s true, “ said Mr. Weston, “but — ’’ 

“You needn’t say any ‘but’ to me,” rejoined the Doctor 
good-humoredly. “I see possibilities in a ‘dynamite cruiser’ 
or a ‘Gruson’s turret’ that you are blind to. The irresisti- 
ble fun of a charge of ‘electricity’ or a full-fledged torpedo 
is beyond you, perhaps.” 

Mr. Weston laughed and nodded. 

“I thought so,” said the Doctor solemnly. “It’s just on 
those points that I propose, like Artemus Ward, to tell you 
all about it. But to do so,” he went on, “I must first go over 
the ground myself. I must have a solid foundation for my 
lighter superstructure. Seriously, Colonel, I want to have 
English views on this topic ; where would you advise me to 
go?” 

The Colonel stared at him, almost too full of amazement 
to answer, but at last he managed to say : “Why, my dear sir, 
if you really mean it, you know — but upon my word this is 
most extraordinary! but if you really mean it. I’ll think 
Over the subject, and write you out a list of suitable persons 
to apply to.” 

“Thank you,” said the Doctor, seriously, “that’s just 
what I want. I’ve got a pretty fair idea of our own views 
on the subject; but I’d like also the opinions of one of the 
greatest naval powers in the world — Great Britain.” 

“Thanks — thanks awfully,” smiled the Colonel. 

“You see,” went on the Doctor, “times have changed 
so. We now use means of warfare that long ago would 
have been thought reprehensible. In all honorable warfare, 
the general acceptation is that no greater harm shall be done 
to your adversary than what is necessary to bring him to 
terms. But after all our boasted progess of human civiliza- 
tion, it doesn’t seem to me that we have advanced much in 
the quality of mercy. Why, the cross-bow was once detested 
and unpopular. Then the musket was condemned, and all 
musketeers treated, as we would think now, most unjustly 
and severely. Chevalier Bayard thanked God in his last 
days, that he had ordered all musketeers to be slain without 
mercy, says Paine. Red-hot shot was also objected to, and 
the bayonet, too, was known a long time before it was used, 
Frederick the Great being the first to use it generally. And 


140 


STOLF.N AMERICA. 


when torpedoes were first invented, they were received with 
execration as being cruel, and barbarous and unfair, as 
liable to injure beyond the combatants proper, and to do 
them much more harm than necessity required.” 

“Is that so?” said Mr. Weston; “why, I thought all was 
fair in love and in war. Have they been long in use. Doc- 
tor, do you know?” 

“I think,” said the Doctor, “that the first appeared in 
the war between the Colonies and the mother-country — but 
am not quite sure.” 

“I can’t recollect hearing of them before that,” said the 
Colonel; “they were called the American turtle, then.” 

“Oh yes, I remember hearing the name,” added Mr. 
Weston. 

“But now,” said the Doctor, “every year brings new and 
wonderful inventions to light. One of the latest and most 
marvelous, I think, is your recent English Jubilee shot, 
Colonel.” 

“Yes,” assented the Colonel proudly, “that’s something 
worth talking about. It can fire a projectile of 380 pounds 
twelve miles, reaching an altitude of over three miles in 
height.” 

“Phew!” whistled Mr. Weston in surprise. 

“Oh yes, I know, but it remained for an American to 
solve the problem of the shot more nearly than any one else ! ” 
said the Doctor triumphantly. 

“Who’s that?” asked the Colonel. 

“Captain James M. Ingalls, of the First Artillery, profes- 
sor of ballistics at Fortress Monroe, Va. The problem was 
given out to all the artillery schools in the world, and his 
result was the most accurate.” 

“But to solve the problem is one thing, my dear sir,” 
broke in the Colonel complacently; “to provide an answer 
or antidote to it is another.” 

“Yes, I know,” admitted Dr. Sinclair, “but that could 
be done — if Americans will only furnish the money to give 
the right men the means to carry out their ideas. And it’s 
just here where I hope to be of use,” continued Dr. Sin- 
clair — “in coaxing the money out of their pockets for that 
purpose. When it is rightly placed before the American 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


141 

people, I do not doubt the result. They are quick to see a 
point, and are generous.’ 

“Yes,” said Mr. Weston, “we are not mean : but we’ve 
got to be sure we’re right, before we’ll shell out, Doctor. 
Men of sense don’t put their hands in their pockets to 
satisfy the notions of enthusiasts, nor to' carry out any bal- 
loon theories you know.” His gray eyes were screwed up 
into wrinkles, and twinkled like bright diamonds, as he 
spoke. His hands were in his pockets, his hat was on the 
back of his head, his feet on the rounds of his chair, he 
looked the typical picture of Uncle Sam, only rather better 
fed. Still the shrewd smile that overspread his face was 
mixed with a certain kindness, that redeemed what would 
have been otherwise ungracious. 

“ Has this Captain Ingalls anything to propose as a foil 
to our Jubilee shot? ” asked Colonel Martin. 

“ When questioned upon the subject,” answered the Doc- 
tor “ his reply was suggestive. ‘ In the event of an invas- 
ion by a ship carrying a Jubilee shot,’ he said, ‘we must 
attack the enemy’s ships directly with ships of our own of 
equal or superior fighting power.’ Vessels of the ‘ dynam- 
ite cruiser ’ type would be very effective in such an emerg- 
ency. This vessel has great speed and fights ‘ bow on,’ thus 
presenting a minimum target for the enemy's guns. She 
carries two pneumatic guns whose shells are effective whether 
they strike the ship or in the water in their immediate vicin- 
ity. The only drawback is that her guns, using com- 
pressed air for the propelling power, are necessarily of 
limited range, and are not effective to a greater distance 
than two miles ! ” 

“She’ll run the chance of being crippled before getting 
into fighting range then,’’ exclaimed the Colonel. 

“I know that,’’ replied the Doctor. “But Captain Ingalls 
says: T think shells loaded with an explosive composition 
more destructive even than dynamite, will be employed in 
the near future. They will be fired with perfect safety from 
the ordinary powder gun now in use; and will have all the 
destructiveness of the Zalinski shells, at ranges of six miles, 
and perhaps more. These shells, when they shall have been 
perfected, will be the complete antidote to the Jubilee shot,’ ’’ 


142 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“What is more destructive than dynamite?” questioned 
the Colonel. 

“Don’t ask me, ” shrugged the Doctor — “That is Capt. 
Ingalls’ secret or invention — I don’t know which. Certainly 
the fact that a man of his careful and conservative calculation 
makes such a statement, has a weight that a more glib pro- 
phecy, from one less informed, would lack. Manifestly 
what America needs is not inventive genuses, nor men of 
skill or brains to complete their designs — she needs only 
money. And that is there, lying fallow waiting to be called 
upon — and the time to call upon it is no7v! ” 

“Perhaps you are right,” said Mr. Weston, running his 
hands through his straight iron-gray hair, till it stood out at 
all possible angles — a way he had when interested. “But 
the amount of money necessary to do the thing up as it 
ought to be done would cripple the country. Doctor.” 

“Not any more — not as much, as it may possibly be 
maimed without it! Why, think of it, Mr. Weston — a Jubilee 
shot fired from the Narrows could come right into New 
York, Brooklyn, or Jersey City, with all its horrors! And 
yet worse off, would be the condition of many other of our 
coast-line cities.” 

“What about submarine mines?” questioned Mr. Weston. 

“One of the first things we would use in shallow waters, 
and most valuable as a quick and near means of defense, 
for, as Captain Ingalls remarked once, ‘War-ships are very 
chary about entering waters that are even suspected of 
harboring submarine mines, as unseen dangers seem much 
more formidable than those that are visible.’ They thus 
have a great moral effect, in addition to their real effective- 
ness; but as a means of defense against a ship carrying a 
Jubilee shot, no! They would be of little or no avail. No, 
Mr. Weston, the money will have to be forthcoming, to give 
the means into able and efficient hands that are waiting to 
use it. Wait a minute” — taking out his pocketbook and 
looking through a number of scraps of paper — “Ah! here 
it is. I cut this out of one of our dailies not long ago; just 
listen to what it says. ‘Captain Sampson, an experienced 
officer and head of the Naval Academy, says: The con- 
struction of modern ships and guns is so slow, and the opera- 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


143 


tions of naval warfare at present are so swift, that preparation 
for war, which is deferred until war is imminent, will result in 
certain defeat ; it will not do to say that we are not likely to 
have any serious trouble with foreign powers. The time is 
not far distant when we must relinquish some of our recent 
applications of the Monroe doctrine, or be prepared to 
defend them with our guns. It is not sufficient, in Capt. 
Sampson’s opinion, to have strong forts armed with mod- 
ern guns and an efficient system of submarine defense. A 
hostile fleet arriving off any of our large ports, defended 
'by forts and mines, could deliberately plan and try one 
form of attack after another. If, however, the stationary 
defenses are supplemented by coast-defencc vessels^ ra??is 
and torpedo-boats^ then the enemy would be much more 
circumspect. Coast-defense vessels may even constitute the 
main defense of a port whose peculiar position does not 
admit of its being defended by forts. Capt. Sampson also 
lays great stress on the value of the ram, and furnishes an 
estimate of the cost of providing each section of the coast 
with a fleet of defensive ships, torpedo-boats, and rams.’ ” 

“Ah, now we’re coming down to business,’’ said Mr. 
Weston, as Dr. Sinclair paused in his reading a moment 
to take breath. 

“ ‘For New York Harbor,’ ’’ went on the Doctor, “ ‘and 
adjacent waters, the estimate is $15,500,000; Delaware Bay 
$5,000,000; Chesapeake Bay, $12,400,000. To man the 
entire fleet 13,400 men would be required. The total cost 
would be $118,900,000. This is a huge sum, but with the 
surplus piling up in the treasury, we ought to be able to 
undertake a work even of this magnitude, especially when we 
reflect that a single powerful iron-clad could levy upon our 
cities, within a few days, many times this amount, leaving 
us equally liable to another attack at any time in the future. 
In the meantime the development of submarine methods 
of defense promise to furnish us at least a partial guarantee 
of safety.’ ’’ 

The Doctor folded up his scrap of paper and put it back 
again into his pocketbook. 

All three kept silence for a few moments ; then the Col- 
onel spoke. ‘ ‘It seems to me, Dr. Sinclair, ’ ’ he said gravely. 


144 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“that America is in a pretty bad shape. Now if we were 
in such a mess, I can’t say that I should rest quite easy, 
don’t you know. When you first began to talk I rather 
fancied you were chafing me, but I see now that you meant 
it. I must say I think you are quite right, sir, in the matter, 
quite right. Sorry I have to leave you now, but I am due 
at Prospect Hill by 4 p.m. Will see you after tea, of course.” 
The brave old soldier was ever prompt to his duty, gave 
them an off-hand military salute, and left them. 

Dr. Sinclair and Mr. Weston, left alone, kept silence for 
a few moments, which was broken at last by Mr. Weston 
standing up and saying: 

“Well, Sinclair, guess I’ll go too. You’ve given me 
something to think about. Can’t say that I see it through 
your glasses exactly, but you, no doubt, have some truth 
on your side — that is, to a certain extent. Will see you 
later,” and nodding, he too left the Doctor, left him alone, 
standing there, leaning on the back of his chair. 

“If I don’t succeed in convincing you,” thought the Doc- 
tor, looking after him, “I may as well give up. You are 
one of many like you — approachable and fair. If I cannot 
persuade you of the necessity of this, I may as well acknowl- 
edge the whole thing as absurd. But it is not! No; Kate, 
you are right! Your instinct and feeling are true, and, 
God help me! I will work, but I will carry out your desire 
for you!” His face looked sternly grand, but his eyes 
smiled. He put back the other three chairs in their places 
against the wall, and taking up his hat, went out-of-doors. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Dr. Sinclair was starting out for the morning, with his 
amateur photographic apparatus, taking views of the island. 
“ I cannot paint,’’ he said to Mr. Weston, “ but I must keep 
some memory of beauty here, and this is the only way I can 
manage it.’’ 

“ And a very good way it is too,’’ answered Mr. Weston, 
“ and much more accurate than lots of the paintings we see.’’ 

“Yes,’’ said the Doctor hesitatingly, “ but it lacks the 


'STOLEN AMERICA, 


145 


color. Still, I am in hopes that that too will be accom- 
plished some day. Some genius, like our Edison, will some 
fine morning say: ‘ See here,what I have found ! A plate so 
sensitive that it reflects back all the tints and shades of color 
like a mirror.’ But until that fine morning comes, we’ll have 
to be content with shine and shadow, and do our own color- 
ing afterwards. Will you come with me, Mr. Weston?” 

“ Well, yes, I don’t care if I do,” said Mr. Weston, fold- 
ing up his newspaper and. leaving his comfortable seat on 
the piazza. Where are you going ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know, several places. Better bring your 
paper with you, for you may want to sit down and wait for 
me once in a while, and then you’ll have nothing to amuse 
yourself with.” 

“ All right,” said Mr. Weston, putting it in his coat- 
pocket. “ Where are you going first ? ” 

“ Down to take a view of the Royal Palms. You know 
where they are ? I know there are pictures of them already, 
but I want to get a glimpse of them from another angle.” 

“ All the same to me,” said Mr. Weston. “ Come on.” 

They walked along down to the town, passing by the many 
shops on Front Street, and so on, until they reached the 
towering “ Royal Palms.” Scaling a wall, they ventured 
into what was really private property, but as no one appeared 
to question them, like true Americans they took what they 
wanted, and then left peaceably. From there, they retraced 
their way and went up Cedar Avenue, that pride of Bermuda, 
broad and level, guarded on each side by magnificent trees, 
arching overhead in blended grace, like the spans of some 
great cathedral. 

Dr. Sinclair was very hard to suit here, taking view after 
view. From Cedar Avenue they walked along to the North- 
ern Shore, and here and there by the way, the Doctor took 
views of the beautiful nature around them. A group of 
date palms, a negro’s picturesque white stone hut, a clump 
of paw-paw trees, a stretch of rocks and sea, a field of 
cultivated flowers, and one unusually fortunate glimpse of 
a few birds near a cocoanut palm. At times Mr. Weston 
watched his proceedings with great interest ; then again he 
wearied a little, and was glad to pass away the time looking 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


146 

at his paper. After some hours of this work, walking and 
wandering, taking out his watch he suddenly exclaimed : 

Doctor, do you know what time it is ? After two o’clock. 
No wonder I felt hungry. Come, let’s go home.” 

‘‘You don’t say so ! ” rejoined Dr. Sinclair in a hurry ; 
“ I’d no idea it was so late. I’ve been very thoughtless ; 
you must be starved. But I wont be a second.” 

“ Oh, finish that one piece,” called out Mr. Weston to him 
from where he was seated on the roadside. “ I don’t mind 
waiting a little longer.” 

“ Not at all,” answered the Doctor, and hastily shutting 
up his apparatus, in a few moments he was on the roadside 
also, and both were making quick time toward the hotel. 

“ Come up to my room after dinner, will you, Mr. Weston, 
and we’ll see what I’ve done,” said the Doctor, as they parted 
at the entrance to the dining-joom, to go to their respective 
places. 

“ Yes, certainly,” nodded Mr. Weston, “ I will be glad to.” 

An hour later, Mr. Weston in Dr. Sinclair’s room, was 
stretched out comfortably upon the bed. 

“ Do you know this sort of hotel life is very demoralizing. 
Doctor ? Why, when I first came here the days dragged 
dreadfully, and I was bored to death ; didn’t know how to 
kill time. Now, time dies away as gently as falling off a 
log, and I do 'nothing from one day’s end to another.” 

“ That’s good for you,” said the Doctor ; “ shows that 
you needed the rest.” 

“ Think so? ’’answered Mr. Weston speculatively. “Well, 
may be. It’s a change for me certainly.” 

“ How do you like this ? ” said the Doctor, holding up 
his view of the “ Palms.” 

“ Capital,” answered Mr. Weston, “ better than the regula- 
tion thing — far better.” 

“ And this ; recognize that ? ” 

“ Well, I never,” exclaimed Mr. Weston, sitting up on the 
bed, in his interest ; “ how did you come to take that ? 1 

didn’t know you had time ! ” . It was a view of a doorway 
they had passed, with a darkey woman on a broad grin, 
talking tota visitor. 

“ Oh, it don’t take a second, if everything’s all ready. In 


STOLEN. AMERICA. 


147 


fact I sometimes think that my most perfect views have 
frequently been those that I took the least pains about. 
How’s this ? ” holding up another, a view of a field of Ber- 
muda lilies. 

“ Don’t like that much, looks flat,” commented Mr. 
Weston. 

“ Guess you’re right,” agreed the Doctor, putting it 
aside. 

“ Here’s another.” 

“ That’s good, that’s very good, and so’s that, and that. 
Too bad I interrupted you on that last one,” said Mr. 
Weston, referring apologetically to the sudden way he had 
reminded the Doctor that it was dinner-time. 

“ Oh, that was nothing,” replied the Doctor, I can go 
there again, or else get something else as good. Guess I’ll 
take the negative out, for it’s probably only a blurr, I shut 
it off so quickly.” Going to his dark room he brought the 
plate out and carelessly held it up against the light. “ Good 
God ! ” he exclaimed suddenly. 

“ What is it ? ” said Mr. Weston, jumping to his feet. 

“ See ! ” said the Doctor, his fingers shaking and pointing 
eagerly at the negative. There, plain to be seen, stood out 
the face and form of the sailor, underneath the spreading 
branches of a loquot-tree, and there, with his waxed mous- 
tache in stiff outline against the sky, his long nose and 
strong chin in clear profile, was unmistakably Count Savi- 
otti. His right hand was raised as if in argument, and his 
whole attitude showed intense excitement. 

‘‘ Phew ! ” whistled Mr. Weston, standing with his hands 
in his pockets, looking at Dr. Sinclair. 

“ What do you think of that ? ” exclaimed the Doctor. 

“ What do I think ? I think what I felt all along, that 
Count Saviotti knew more about that scoundrelly tar than 
looked on the face of it,” answered Mr. Weston, excitedly. 
“ And to think that you should get a hold of him like 
this ! ” 

The two men stood and looked at each other, and then 
shook hands. “ Don’t lose it,” said Mr. Weston anxiously, 
after a minute. 

“ Hardly,” exclaimed Dr. Sinclair, preparing to make a 


14 ^ STOLEN AMERICA. 

point of what was of such value to them. “ Strange we 
didn’t see them, or they hear us,” he added. 

“Well, they didn’t,” said Mr. Weston with satisfaction, 
“ and that’s all we care about it.” 

“ What earthly interest can a man like Saviotti have with 
a tough like that, do you suppose ? ” questioned the Doctor. 

“ Goodness knows,” shrugged Mr. Weston, “ probably in 
some scrape together some time ; but if we’re not fools, 
we’ll get on his track now. I always knew that man was a 
blackleg, although he is so very polite with his bon-jours,” 
said Mr. Weston viciously. “And he pretending all the 
time what he would not give, to wring de villain’s neck, 
so ! ” continued he excitedly. “ I’ll get square with you 
yet. Monsieur Saviotti ! ” 

Very carefully was this precious negative printed, and 
many were the looks Dr. Sinclair and Mr. Weston took at 
it, and long was their conversation in regard to it. Finally 
they determined to keep their discovery to themselves and 
watch the Count, and see what they could discover concern- 
ing him. 

Gone was Mr. Weston’s lassitude ; he had now a most 
decided object in life, to find out the Count’s secret. That 
any man could have any sort of intercourse with a wretch 
who had maltreated and frightened his daughter Kate, was 
enough for Mr. Weston. With Dr. Sinclair as his aid, he 
never doubted but what he “ could soon run the scoundrel 
in,” as he expressed it, and he was only too anxious to begin. 

“ But be very careful, Mr. Weston,” said Dr. Sinclair. “ If 
he once gets an inkling that he’s watched, I wouldn’t give 
that,” snapping his fingers, “ for our chance of unearthing 
him.” 

“ Never you fear. Doctor,” answered Mr. Weston, pacing 
up and down the bed-room excitedly. “ I’ll be careful. 
Good-by — I am going downstairs now. Why, man, I’ve got 
the caution of a cat in me ! — that is, to a certain extent.” 

The Doctor laughed at Mr. Weston’s well-known qualifi- 
cation, and as he went out and shut the door after him, he 
sat down on the edge of the bed and wondered what his own 
pet foible of speech was, that other people no doubt smiled 
over. 


Count Saviotti and Saiuok Sam ukhind the Cactus, 



/ 





4 


1 


STOLEN' AMERICA. 


149 


He sat there some time, thinking of the Count and of 
Kate, but at last arose suddenly, with an exclamation of 
satisfaction. He had thought of something that pleased 
him. Taking up his hat, he also left the bed-room, and 
went downstairs. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

In one of the small reception-rooms off the main hall 
were seated Kate and Count Saviotti, also Mrs. Gascoigne 
and Emily. They were reading French together, and were 
/laughing and talking with great enjoyment. 

“ Those idioms are what puzzle me,” claimed Kate ; 
“they are so meaningless. Now why should you say 
‘ Hein ! ’ in place of ‘ what ? What do you say ? ’ ” 

“ Ah, Mademoiselle ! ” smiled the Count suavely ; “ I do 
no diffairant que vous. Ne dites-vous pas, ‘ Hey ? ’ Ees 
not dat ze zame ? ” 

Kate joined in the laugh at her expense, but said : 

“ Well, that is not allowable as good English, Monsieur. 
And now just listen to this : “ Le fils n’est pas si riche que 
le pere ; il s’en faut de beaucoup ’ — ‘ The son is not so rich 
as the father by a good deal.’ Now why can’t you say, ‘ By 
a great deal } ’ Why do you say, ‘ It is necessary, of it, to 
him, very much.’ It is so confusing to a foreigner. Count 
Saviotti.” 

“ Ah ? So ? Oui, certainement ; inais, voulez-vous me 
dire, vot you mean ven you zay ze English ‘ by a good 
deal,’ Mademoiselle ? Dat ees un idiom Anglais, dat puz- 
zle me vairy much.” 

“ By a good deal,” hesitated Kate — “ by a good deal ; 
why, it means that he lacked much money to equal the 
amount his father had.” 

“Oui! Just so!” answered the Count triumphantly. 
“ Vy not zay vot you means, Mademoiselle ? Vy not zay ‘ a 
good deal ’ ? A good deal, in cartes, oui, I understand 
dat, mais,” with a shrug, “ mais, a good deal all alone, by 
itself, je ne comprends pas ! ” 

“ You are right,” laughed Kate. “What a difference it 


STOLEiSr AMERICA. 


ISO 

makes when one is accustomed to peculiarities of speech. 
We accept them then without a question.” 

“ Ah ! Mees Wes-ton, it give me beaucoup de plaisir to 
teach you. Vous etes si raisonnable. Now, de langue 
Fra9aise ees de most logique in the vorld. Nous avons 
very few rules vidout de raison. Mais, de English ! Ah, 
it ees de tongue barbare ! ” 

“ Can’t say that I agree with you. Count,” spoke Dr. Sin- 
clair, coming into the room ; “ the trouble is not with the 
language itself, but with the people who use it. Careless- 
ness of speech is so common, and we all absorb what is 
nearest to us so readily and think so little for ourselves, 
that is the trouble. As a nation, the English-speaking 
races are so full of what they want to say, that, unlike the 
French, they give little thought as to how they say it. This 
same characteristic runs through actions as well as language. 
We certainly lack the ease that comes from fitness, and the 
grace that comes from thought. Precise accuracy is hard 
to secure, and only attainable perhaps by a Browning or an 
Emerson.” 

As no one present knew much about Browning or Emer- 
son, this last remark .was taken in silence ; the only answer 
the Doctor received, being the sweet wide-awake attention 
from Kate, whose face was full of expressive interest. 

“ I see,” spoke the Doctor again, “ that you are not read- 
ing, Mrs. Gascoigne, will you not come out upon the piazza 
with me ? There is a nice breeze there, and then we will 
not disturb the class.” 

“ Why, yes,” said Mrs. Gascoigne, rising at once with evi- 
dent pleasure, “ it will be pleasanter outside, I think.” 

She caught at this small attention from the Doctor with 
eagerness, as of late he had given her so little, and she was 
longing to be with him alone, as of old. She had thought, 
at times, that his neglect of her was but a passing mood, 
and not due altogether to a new fancy for another; and now 
a sort of repressed excitement in his face reminded her of 
the times when he had come to her in reckless and loving 
humor, — the man whom she adored. The pink flush came 
to her cheeks, her eyes brightened, the tones of her voice 
became gentler, and, as she arose to go with him, she seemed 


STOLE AT AMERICA. 


151 

SO gracious and so beautiful, that even Count Saviotti said 
openly “Ah, mais vous yourself surpass dis mornin’, 
Madame Gascoigne!” 

“Merci, Monsieur,” she bowed in return, “but if you will 
let me pass you, that is all I wish for the present. I am 
ready, Dr. Sinclair. Will I need a shawl, do you think? 
or is it warm enough without?” 

“You wont need any; it’s quite mild,” answered the 
Doctor. 

When they were comfortably seated at the extreme end of 
the piazza, sheltered from the breeze, and out of sight and 
sound of any others. Dr. Sinclair said abruptly, “Will you 
do something to aid me, friend of mine?” 

“Will I? You know that without the asking. Anything 
that I could do for you. Doctor, I should count but a 
pleasure. ” 

“Thank you,” said the Doctor, wincing a little, as memo- 
ries of how he had talked to this lovely woman in times past 
came over him ; “ thank you, I do not deserve that you should 
say that, but if you will do this I ask, it will not be very 
hard for you, and I think you will find pleasure in it your- 
self, also.” 

“Whatis it?” asked Mrs. Gascoigne with eager curiosity. 

“I have noticed,” said Dr. Sinclair very slowly, “that 
Count Saviotti admires you very much.” Mrs. Gascoigne 
started. “And that he seeks as many times and opportuni- 
ties of being with you alone as he can.” 

Mrs. Gascoigne smiled, she was pleased. “You surely do 
not mind that, Richard?” she said softly. “You know I care 
nothing for him.” 

“Oh, no, I do not mind,” answered tire Doctor, with 
blunt candor; “more than that, I want you to pretend that 
you care for him, and encourage him to be with you yet 
more, if you will.” 

“Ah!” sighed the woman shortly, “that is it! why do 
you want me to see more of him? What good can that do 
you. Doctor Sinclair?” 

“I want to find out something about him, about his private 
life,” said the Doctor. Now Mrs. Gascoigne was curious 
indeed, and a strong feeling of fear was with her curiosity. 


152 


STOLEN' AMERICA. 


“But why?” she said. “What is it you wish to know of 
him?” 

“Promise me to keep to yourself what I tell you?” 

“Certainly,” she answered hurriedly, “certainly.” 

“Well, this is why,” said the Doctor, opening a book he 
held in his hand and taking out a photograph from it. “I 
want to know why he was with this man.” 

One glance at the picture was enough for Mrs. Gascoigne ; 
she recognized instantly the Count and the sailor, Sam. 
Her heart seemed to stop in its beating, and the blue water 
and the piazza railings melted together in a gray mist. 

Then the air cleared a little again, and she managed to 
say faintly, “Who is it?” Dr. Sinclair was looking at the 
photograph so intently, that he did not notice how pale she 
was, nor tjiat her voice was different from usual. 

“Who is it? Why, that brute of a sailor that frightened 
Kate — Miss Weston, I mean. You see Count Saviotti helped 
him away in the firsi place, or appeared to ; then he looked 
in the window that night, and no one has a trace of him 
since. Not even the Count, according to his own story. 
But you see he has lied, Mrs. Gascoigne, and why has he 
lied? Why should he shield a wretch like that, can you 
imagine? Why! — why! — my friend, are you ill? You look so 
pale, r beg your pardon, that I did not see you were not well. 
Your pulse is very weak, and” — and to the physician’s great 
consternation, Mrs. Gascoigne quietly fainted away, sitting 
there in her chair! Uqlike most men in the same situation, 
he did not run for water, for remedies, or anything. He 
just sat by her, and quietly but firmly stroked her wrists. 
It was a theory of his that a faint was but one of Nature’s 
avenging rests, and that you might as well allow that per- 
verse old dame to have her way, as to interfere with her 
notions. Whether he was right or not, certainly after a 
moment or two Mrs. Gascoigne opened her eyes, stirred as 
one awaking from a sleep, and said, “Richard!” 

“Yes, I am here,” he answered. 

As she sat a little more upright, her eyes fell on the fatal 
photograph. She shuddered and gave a faint cry, “Oh!” 
Then her quick brain rallying to the necessity of the case, 
she gave a faint laugh and said slowly, “You’ll be thinking 


STOLEN- AMERICA, 


153 


soon, Richard, that I have nerves like other women. It is 
not that I am afraid of the sailor, as Miss Weston was, but 
that I am a little tired out, I fancy. It was quite late when 
we all got to our rooms last evening, and I always feel it 
when my night’s rest is broken. Now what was it you 
wished me to do, Richard? Tell Count Saviotti not to 
speak to the sailor any more?” Nothing, not even truth 
itself, could have out-rivaled her innocent gaze, her seeming 
unconsciousness of the facts of the situation. 

“No!” jerked out Dr. Sinclair rather irritably ; “certainly 
not! Don’t you understand that he does not know I have 
this picture? Don’t you see that he must not know? Don’t 
you see that if he is put on his guard we shall be powerless 
to catch him?” 

“Oh yes, ” said Mrs. Gascoigne, faintly; “I see! I am 
very dull sometimes, Richard, when my, — my — head is tired. 
But you’ll excuse me, wont you?” 

“Of courseT’ll excuse you, and I am a brute to keep you 
talking here a second longer. I see you are all played out. 
Come, I will escort you to your room, and you had better 
lie down and sleep.” 

“Oh, never mind. I’ll be all right in a moment, Richard.” 

“No,” said Sinclair firmly, “you must rest now; I see 
you are all used up. I am a doctor, you know, and you 
must obey my orders. In the morning we will talk this 
matter over again ; that will be quite time enough. Come, 
take my arm. There, walk slowly, take it easy. Put a 
handkerchief, wet in cold water, over your eyes, and lie down 
at once, when you get to your room; do you hear?” She 
nodded and smiled at him faintly. It was so sweet to have 
him care for her in any way. He left at her room door, 
and from there, too full of thought and feeling to keep still, 
he went downstairs and joined in a game of billiards. 

After supper that evening Doctor Sinclair told Mr. Wes- 
ton of what he had done. 

“Capital!” said Mr. Weston, in great excitement. 
“Splendid idea! She’s just the one to worm the truth out of 
the rascal, and to see and find out what he don’t want to tell 
her. Let a woman alone for bamboozling a man! She’s 
smart; she is. Why, I believe, if she set about it, she could 


154 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


take me in; that is, to a certain extent.’" He gave a sly 
wink at the Doctor as he said this, and slapped him in a 
hearty sort of way upon the shoulders. 

Yet later, that same evening. Count Saviotti received a 
note from Mrs. Gascoigne. It read as follows : 

“Meet me to-morrow morning at sunrise in Cedar Grove, 
Do not fail. Danger. Louise.’’ 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Very early in the morning, before the tide of human life 
sets in and overflows all inanimate objects. Nature has an 
air of her own, very different from what she wears later in 
the day. 

As Mrs. Gascoigne stood underneath the cedar-trees, their 
branches seemed sombre and threatening; the very blades 
of weak grass at her feet looked accusing, and the gray banks 
of clouds piled up in the east seemed only a precursor of 
another and yet fiercer storm that was soon coming, to beat 
upon her head. 

She shivered, rubbed her cold hands nervously together, 
took a silk handkerchief out of a pocket and tied it about 
her neck, over her cloth jacket. She walked a little to and 
fro, then the rustling sound of her own footsteps frightened 
her, and she stood nervously still again. At last, Count 
Saviotti made his appearance. The cold gray light of early 
morning, that even took away some of Mrs. Gascoigne’s won- 
drous beauty, did not improve his appearance. 

“Veil, Louise!’’ he exclaimed harshly, as he reached her, 
“Vot ees it?’’ He was minus his morning’s shave; he had 
dressed hurriedly without a collar, and his tightly buttoned- 
up coat did not conceal his thin brown neck. His black 
beady eyes were bloodshot and unwashed, and as he had 
left his suave politeness at home with his collar and cuffs, 
he appeared anything but like the polished gentleman the 
guests of the hotel were in the habit of seeing. 

Mrs. Gascoigne looked at him a moment, and in her face) 
was expressed such distaste and repugnance, that he said 
sharply “Come, come, mon ange, que voule^-vous? Vot 
for you disturb ma repose and bring me here, a cette heure?’’ 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


155 


“For a very good reason, you maybe sure,” answered 
Mrs. Gascoigne with emphasis. “I am not so anxious to 
see you. Monsieur, that I would take all this trouble if it 
were not necessary for my own safety.” 

“Ah! So! You aire as frank as evair, ma Louise! 
Parlez.” 

She drew a deep breath and then said abruptly, “Dr. 
Sinclair has a photograph of you, talking to Sam.” 

‘ ‘ Im-poss-see-ble ! ’ ’ exclaimed Saviotti. “He could not ! ” 

“It’s true. I saw it myself.” 

“Allonsdonc! -Ce n’est pas vrai ! Itcannotbe! I not 
zit like a fool for mon portrait with Sam! Im-poss-see-ble, 
Je vous dis!” 

“It is true, I tell you; he showed it to me yesterday; and 
he, more than that,” here she smiled bitterly, “asked me to 
help him — me, in tracking you down ! Now do you believe 
me?” 

Saviotti sprang toward her and grasped her by the shoul- 
ders, “Est-ce vrai?” he hissed in her face. 

“Yes,” she said struggling and shaking him off, “of 
course it is true; why should I trouble to see you, if it 
wasn’t?” she added insolently. 

He glared at her in wild dismay; he shook for a second 
with fear, then he seemed possessed with a very demon of 
rage and hate. He stamped upon the ground, he took twigs 
of cedar and twisted them until his hands were bruised, he 
sprang up in the air, he jumped, he swore, and finally in a 
state of exhaustion, threw himself, face downward, upon the 
damp earth. 

“Have you finished with your performance?” inquired 
Mrs. Gascoigne, sarcastically; “for if you haven’t I cannot 
remain here much longer, I warn you ; but if you are quite 
over with it, and have any sense left in you at all, I should 
like to talk business with you for a few moments.” 

“Oh, Louise, ma chere Louise!” grovelled the wretch 
at her feet, “only aide moi out of dis, and I you adore 
for evair! Can you help me, Louise? Avez-vous un 
projet?” 

“Help you?” she said drily. “Yes, get up.” He 
obeyed her and looked at her with despairing eagerness, 


156 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


“ Isn’ t it day after to-morrow that he was to sail for America, ’ ’ 
she asked. 

“Mais Old, but now they would recog-nize him at once, 
ne voyez-vous pas?” 

“Yes, if he went as he is, but we must change him,” she 
said with decision. 

“Mais comment? How can you shange him? He have 
de hair, de beard, de figure; dey know him immediatement.” 

“Fool!” exclaimed Mrs. Gascoigne irritably, “that is 
easy done, where are your wits? Shave off his hair, and his 
beard, and dress him with the clothes I will get for you. 
Now do you understand? I will arrange a wig for you, 
which he must wear, and with a wide bonnet over that, and 
a veil, and dress as a poor English woman. I hardly think 
Dr. Sinclair would recognize him then.” 

“Ah, Louise! You aire ma sauveur!” trying to kiss her 
hand. 

“Don’t,” she cried, shrinking from him, “it is not for 
you I am here, but to save myself.” 

“Bien!” he replied, stung at last into something like self- 
respect, “so be it! It mat-tair not for me, how you come 
here, or vy, you are come, if you vill aide moi. C’est assez, 
a quelle heure voulez-vous venir ici demain?” 

“At the same time as to-day, at sunrise, or before, this 
same place. It is the only hour that we can be sure of 
meeting no one, and I- will bring the things with me. Dress 
yourself carefully when you get back to your room,” she 
said looking at him cooly, “and try to act as if you were not 
a coward and a fool.” 

“Have no fear, ma Louise!” he replied, bowing in mock 
courtesy, looking a hideous caricature of his usual polished 
self. “It me distress vairy much that you me have seen 
comme 9a, but, pairhaps, mon ange, you vill pardon mon 
deshabille when vous savez, dat it was for your own sweet 
sake dat I come here avec unhasty toilet!” 

' Her only reply to this was a glance of contempt, and she 
turned to leave him. 1 

“Bon jour, ma Louise!’' he said bowing low, “Bon 
jour! Au revoir! Au revgir’” 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


157 


Late in the afternoon of that same day Mrs. Gascoigne 
said to Dr. Sinclair: “Weil, I have begun my work, you see. 
Did you notice that I had quite a talk with the Count after 
breakfast? He is very cool, if he has anything to hide, for 
when I brought up the subject of the sailor again he did not 
seem at all nervous or disturbed in any way. If you and 
Mr. Weston will keep your eye on him in the evenings per- 
haps it would be as well. In the day-time, leave him to 
me. ’’ 

Mr. Weston and Dr. Sinclair did as she suggested, but of 
course neither of them saw anything that gave any light 
upon the subject. It was agreed upon between the Count 
and Mrs. Gascoigne that she should see the sailor Sam off 
this time, as they feared his ability to manage his departure 
without perhaps revealing himself, for they rightly fancied 
that Mr. Weston and the Doctor would scan pretty sharply 
all the passengers that would leave on the steamer that day 
for New York. At first, Mrs. Gascoigne hesitated about 
taking the great risk of letting Sam know of her presence in 
Bermuda, as he would of course recognize her as the Count’s 
wife, but upon thinking the whole matter over, she came to 
the conclusion that there would be more risk in not seeing 
that he got safely into his stateroom aboard the vessel, and 
also that for the Count to be seen having any interest in any 
passenger on board the Trinidad that day would be danger 
itself. What she could do with impunity, not being under 
suspicion, it would be rash for the Count to attempt to do. 
So of a choice of risks and evils, she chose the one that 
seemed the least. 

The Thursday morning that the steamer was to start was 
bright and clear, and although there were but a few guests 
from the hotel that were to sail away that day. among them 
there were several acquaintances of the Westons. As a 
matter of course, most of the hotel guests strolled down to 
Front Street wharf, to see the great ship go out, and to call 
out good-bys and bon voyage to those who were leaving. 
Just five minutes before the steamer sailed, Mrs. Gascoigne 
appeared among the crowd, and upon her arm hung a short, 
stout old lady, whose white hair gleamed through her veil, 
and whose tottering steps seemed to portray old age and 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


158 

feebleness. As she started up the gang plank, Mr. Weston, 
who was standing on the deck, sprang up beside her. 

“ Let me help you and your friend, Mrs. Gascoigne,” he 
said. 

Oh, thank you,” she smiled back at him sweetly, “ I can 
manage nicely. It’s an old lady that I came across who is 
going to her son in Connecticut,” she said. “ She’s very 
deaf, so I wont introduce you, as it is so hard to make her 
hear.” 

The old lady turned her face toward Mr. Weston and 
nodded her thanks for his aid, and he saw that she had on 
dark glasses, and looked very pale. Like all true-hearted 
men he had ever a chivalrous tenderness for old age, and 
gently and kindly he helped the woman up the long gang- 
plank, safely on the steamer’s deck. 

“ Thank you ever so much,” said Mrs. Gascoigne, 
graciously, “ 1 11 just see her safely to her state-room, and 
speak a good word to the stewardess for her, and then she’ll 
be all right.” 

“ She’s pretty old to be going so far alone,” answered 
Mr. Weston kindly, “ but then 1 suppose there’ll be some 
one to meet her when she gets there.” 

“ Yes,” nodded" Mrs. Gascoigne, “ her son’s looking for 
her by this steamer, and the poor thing is crazy to see him.” 

They disappeared down into the main saloon of the ship, 
and from thence into a state-room. In a few minutes more, 
Mrs. Gascoigne was up on deck again, and found Mr, Wes- 
ton politely waiting to escort her down the gang-plank to 
shore. 

“ That was a poor old body that did some needlework for 
me,” explained Mrs. Gascoigne to him. “ It’s a great event 
for her to go to America ; she’s not been off the Island here 
for twenty years, she told me.” 

“ It was very kind of you to take an interest in her,” said 
Mr. Weston warmly. His innocent words of commendation 
brough the blush of shame to her cheeks. Her face, pale 
before, flushed up in a wave of flame, and involuntarily she 
said : “ Don’t ! I am selfish right through, Mr. Weston, 
through to my heart’s core ? ” 

The good fellow looked at her a moment with respectful 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


J59 


admiration, and then said quietly : “ That’s nothing, Mrs. 
Gascoigne ; so are we all, so is everybody ! — that is, to a 
certain extent.” 

In a few moments the great steamer heaved, seeming to 
breathe like a thing of life, and then with a slow majesty 
sailed from out the harbor. Count Saviotti outrivaled 
Allison on their walk back home to the hotel, in gay laugh- 
ter and chatter, and no one would have guessed that the 
half-hour gone before he had passed in mortal terror. 

Mrs. Gascoigne, however, complained of a headache, and 
very shortly went up to her room. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

EXTRACT FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF RICHARD SINCLAIR, M.D. 

It is about a month since I made that rash statement to 
Mr. Weston and the Colonel, concerning my proposed 
“ lectures ” in America. I am surprised at myself. And 
yet — no — that is not true, for I have ever been a surprise to 
myself. What I am at one season, I am not at another. 
What I am in 1880, I am not five years later. Well, come 
to think, that is only rational. I grow of course as my body 
grows. But there is a time when the body stops growing, 
it only changes after that. Can it be that the soul is the 
same ? Can it be that it too has its miserable limitations ? 
I will not believe it ! No, Kate ! By the sweet faith in 
thy dear eyes I will not believe it. I will see as they see. 
And what do they see. They see, the desire of all that is 
right and just and noble. Rights first of all, like the com- 
mand of a general to battle. Just^ as an after-thought, 
like the misty meddling of an old-timer like me. Noble 
last and the end, like the pure prophecy of your own sweet 
soul. What is right, what is just, what is noble ; that you 
see, Kate ; that you speak, and that I will help you to with 
all that is left of me, to help. For you see, Kate dear, I 
have spent myself. Didn’t you know that ? No ; that’s so. 
I forget that you do not know me as I know you. Never 
mind, it’s all the same. What is a little time more or less ? 


i6o 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


I am years older than you, in all known evil ; you are j^ears 
older than me, in all known good. Between us, dear, per- 
haps we may strike an average. What delight I take in 
writing down all this foolishness, that you will never see, 
that you will never know of. But it pleases me, it rests me 
to be with you in thought, if nothing else. Do you know. 
Lady Kate, even as I write, striving to write my very self to 
myself, I am wondering if it is, after all, you, or the noble- 
ness of you, that I love ? 

Oh ! I take that back ! What made me say it ? I love 
you dear, simply and truly, and only you, outside of that 
cold, high spirit of you that at times comes in like a white- 
robed ghost at my feast. ... I have just wasted half an hour 
in dreaming of you. Of you, every day — you, in your blue 
flannel dress with black braid upon it. Truly, dear heart, I 
have only dreamed of you. Not of your words, not of your 
acts, not of your aims, only of you. Gentle, quiet, ordinary 
you. Now are you satisfied ? 

^ * * * * * 

A week later. I find I cannot separate shadow and sub- 
stance. Good Lord ! It’s lucky no one is near me to see 
what I write. Shadow and substance ! Which is which ? 
What do I mean ? Am I deceiving myself? Am I trying 
to tie a bandage around my own eyes and say, “ Now, walk, 
and see if you can tell what you knock against ? ” No ? if I 
die for it, No. It is only this. You have interested me so 
in love for my own country, America^'' that I am not sure 
whether I love you because of that, or whether I love that, 
because of you! Which is it? Which is the shadow? 
Which is the substance ? Neither ? Both shadow ? That 
is a lie. Both substance ? That sounds real. Guess I have 
struck land at last. I think I feel the grating jar of truth 
upon the keel. Oh, Kate, Kate ! If I have really gotten 
something solid under my feet after all these years ! . . . 
You cannot understand my thankfulness, dear, for you have 
had wings almost from {he first. I have never had, and 
have not yet. 

What you see, I have to think: about ; and dear, it tires 
me so — to think. This big-small matter of “Coast Defen- 
ses/’ I will attend to it, love, for your sake. Yes^ for your 


STOLEN- AAtERiCA, 


i6i 

sake. That is it, after all, I see, try as I may to blind my- 
self. I would never have set my hand to this work but for 
you, although the work was there and waiting — although it 

was there, and was good. . . . And you will never know, 

what a fool you are, Richard ! You love her, love her, love 
her, — why try to say anything else ? ” 


CHAPTER XX. 

“ De boat ees waiting,” announced Count Saviotti to Kate, 
Mrs. Gascoigne, and Dr. Sinclair, who seated upon the 
piazza, were ready for the proposed trip to “ Fairy-land.” 
Kate jumped up from her chair instantly — like a child, eager 
fora new entertainment. “Fairy-land — Fairy-land!” she 
said gayly, “ why, I’ve wanted to go there all the days of my 
life, and to think that I am really to see it at last ? Can you 
tell me. Count Saviotti, if the good or the bad fairies will be 
on hand to-night ? Fd like to be sure, so as to know how 
to behave.” 

“ Toujours les bonnes. Mademoiselle, ven you aire by ! ” 
said Saviotti, bowing gallantly. 

“ It’s quite probable,” said the Doctor, lazily, “that you’ll 
see both kinds. Miss Kate.” 

“ What a child she is ! ” said Mrs. Gascoigne, in a low 
aside to the Doctor. 

“ Yes,” he nodded back, smiling. “ Quite a child as yet — 
thank God ! ” 

“ Why say that ? ” she half-whispered. “ Oh — pure phil- 
antrophy, I guess. You wouldn’t have her as I am — or even 
you ; would you ? ” The beautiful woman laughed softly 
and said under her breath, “ No ! a thousand times no ! for 
if she were as old as I, she would be nearer to you — old 
Bruin ! ” 

The Doctor shrank and smarted under her arrow, but he 
did not show it openly. “ Have both you ladies wraps with 
you ? ” he asked quietly, “ for it will be quite cool on the 
water.” . 

“ Yes, indeed,” said Kate ; “ I have on an old dress and 
my Scotch plaidie — see ? ” This last was a long, full cloak 


i 62 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


with a hood at the top, which she had pulled over her head 
in place of a hat. 

“ Yes,” nodded the Doctor, “ you’ll do ; you look com- 
pletely comfortable ; and you, Mrs. Gascoigne ? ” 

“ I have this striped Persian shawl, and I shall put one end 
of it over my head — so ; is that all right ? ” 

“ Yes,” assented the Doctor, his eyes giving in spite of 
himself a grudging tribute to her beauty. 

Beautiful indeed she was, as she stood there, draped in 
artistic simplicity with her Persian white and gold wrap 
wound about her. “ You look like the queen of the 
stars ! ” exclaimed Kate admiringly, as turning around she 
saw Mrs. Gascoigne lit up by the silvery moonlight. Kate 
stood with her hands clasped before her, her simple cloak 
falling in straight folds to her feet — the hood half pushed 
back from her face. The moon had also lent her some of 
its loveliness, for never had she looked so well — never had 
she seemed so truly the picture of her real self. Her face 
etherealized by the silvery light seemed alive with the human 
spirit within. The stray curling locks about her temples 
half climbed over the edges of the hood ; her slender clasped 
hands, her whole attitude, spoke forgetfulness of self and 
appreciation of another. With a great wave of content Dr. 
Sinclair looked from one to the other, and decided that 
Kate’s simple loveliness was more to him than the other’s 
wondrous beauty. 

“ Thank you ! ” laughed Mrs. Gascoigne in reply to Kate ; 
“ If I am Queen of Heaven my kingdom is indeed vast.” 

“ Mon Dieu ! ” cried Count Saviotti, raising both hands, 

have maircy upon us miserable sinners ! Etes-vous prete. 
Mademoiselle? the boat waits.” 

“ Y es — we’re all ready. Good-by, mamma — papa — every- 
body ! ” 

“ Wish I was going,” said Allison lugubriously, as he 
jumped down the steps of the piazza, “but there isn’t room, 
I suppose.” 

“ Not this time,” answered Kate merrily : “ ‘ us four and no 
more,’ as you told me the other night at that game of cards. 
But you can wait up for us and look at us when we come 
back if you want to.” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


163 


A long, narrow rowboat was awaiting them at the foot of 
the stone steps that led down to the water. Oh ! it’s you, 
David ! ” said Kate, gladly. “ You got off then, after all I ” 

“Yes, Miss Kate,” said David, touching his hat respect- 
fully, “ I’se here. When I heerd tell dat you want to go to 
Fairy-land, I tried hard to git here for to carry you thar. 
No one on dis island. Miss Kate, knows more about de 
coves and crannies dan I does.” 

“ Will the fairies be at home to-night, do you think, 
David ? ” asked Kate whimsically. 

“ Certain, Miss Kate,” he answered soberly. “ I donetole 
’em dat you was a-comin’.” He took up the big oars out of 
her way as he spoke, and politely held out his other hand 
to assist her into the boat. As she sat down Count Savi- 
otti coolly stepped in next, and seated himself by her 
side ; Dr. Sinclair helped in Mrs. Gascoigne, David step- 
ping out of the boat and holding it close to the stone steps 
with one hand until they were seated, then he once more 
took his own place in the center of the boat and pushed 
out from land. 

“ Good-by, sweetheart, good-by,” called out Allison plain- 
tively from the shore. “ Good-by ! ” echoed every one, and 
in a short time they were out of sight. The waves were 
not high, but yet strong enough for the boat to rise and fall, 
rise and fall, like a cradle idly rocking. 

“ How dark the water seems ! ” said Kate to Count Savi- 
otti. “ It didn't look so from land.” 

“ Ah ! Mademoiselle! ” sighed the Count sentimentally, 
“it ees evair so, through la vie I Until we are really, truly, 
on the sea of life — it seem — all sunshine ! moonshine ! 
shine of some kind — any way,” he gesticulated : “ now it 
ees golden — now it ees soft silvair, mais toujours — it 
shines! And ven we come to it, vraiment, — ma chere 
Mademoiselle, que trouve-t-on ? We find de dark waves of 
trouble — and de rocks de danger.” 

“ May be so,” agreed Kate cheerfully, “ but we are not 
afraid of dark waves — are we ? And as for rocks of dan- 
ger — well, usually, you know, we have a pilot who steers 
us clear of them.” 

The Frenchman could not quite follow her rapid speech, 


164 STOLEN AMERICA. 

and the figure implied, so he just nodded and looked as if 
he understood. 

“ Can you swim, Doctor ? ” asked Mrs. Gascoigne. 

“ Swim ? No — can you ? 

“ Not at all ! ” 

“Why, neither can I,” said Kate. “ Can you. Count 
Saviotti ? ” 

“ Mais oui, certainement — like de duck. It ees vairy 
n^cessaire to swim, sometimes pairhaps you need it — hey ? ” 

“ I know you can swim, David,” said Kate, “ for that was 
the first time I ever saw you, that day you jumped over for 
my bag. Do you remember that, David ? ” 

“ Deed I does. Miss Kate,” replied David respectfully. 
“ Dat’s de fus time I ever see your sweet face. Miss Kate.” 

“ Only a few planks between us and a possible destruc- 
tion,” said the Doctor musingly ; “ strange, what we trust 
ourselves to — isn’t it ? ” 

“ Oh ! don’t you be afraid. Doc’ Sinclair, I’se gwine to 
carry you dere all safe.” 

“ I’m not uneasy about that, David,” laughed the Doctor. 
“ I know we are safe in your hands.” 

“ How beautiful the moon is ! ” said Mrs. Gascoigne, 
looking with upturned face toward the sky ; “ how it glorifies 
everything ! Isn’t it just the loveliest of all Nature’s works. 
Miss Weston ? ” 

“No — I don’t think so,” said Kate, with a pretty air of 
arguing a question ; “ It’s too cold — and besides that it isn’t 
genuine — it only shines with a borrowed light, you know — 
it has no warmth of its own.” 

“That’s true,” laughed Mrs. Gascoigne, “but if I could 
only shine by reflected greatness as effectively as it does, 
I’d be quite content that my light was silver, instead of 
golden.” 

“Would you?” said Kate. “I wouldn’t. I would 
much prefer to be one of the smallest of those stars up 
there that had light and heat of its own. Give me the sun- 
light ! ” 

“Ah — mais. Mademoiselle ! Vous etes not juste to de 
moon. She pairform one grande office dat de sun can 
never do ! ” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


1^5 

What’s that ? ” asked Kate. 

“ She hide des imperfec-tions — she gilde over de ugly 
places — she silvair vot vould be, vidout her help, ugly and 
vilain — ne savez-vous pas ? ” 

“That’s one reason,” persisted Kate, “that I can’t love 
her. She makes things appear other than they are — what 
they are not.” 

“ Mais, Mademoiselle ! ” shrugged the Count. 

“ Surely,” said Dr. Sinclair in a teasing tone, “ what 
elevates the ugly and commonplace into the beautiful and 
idealistic is not to be despised, is it ? ” 

“Why, Miss Kate,” broke in even David, “ de fairies only 
dance on moonlight nights. Dere’s got to be a moon for 
dem — doan’ yer know ? ” 

“Well,” laughed Kate, “I’m in the meek minority, 
evidently ; so I guess I wont say any more. How much 
farther have we to go yet, David ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s a right smart ways yet. Miss Kate ; most two 
mile yet,” and David pulled at his oars with renewed energy 
which shot the boat ahead in great leaping bounds. 

“ Well, this is splendid anyway,” said Kate, leaning over 
the side of the boat, and dipping her hand in the water and 
spattering it up in the moonlight like a child. “ I’m throw- 
ing silver away, who wants any ? See — there — and there !” 

“ Take care, Kate,” spoke Dr. Sinclair authoritatively, 
“don’t 1 eanso far to one side, please, — you might tip 
over.” 

“ You’d pick me out if I did, wouldn’t you ? ” said Kate 
half coquettishly to the Count. 

“Would I not ?” answered the Count, bending toward 
her impressively ; “ I vould do more dan dat for you. 
Mademoiselle.” His voice lowered as he said the last few 
words, and he went on rapidly, “You know, ma chere amie 
(can I not you call dat ?) dat I vould risque ma life to keep 
from you all harm — all danger — vous savez cela.” 

“ Really ? ” said Kate mischievously, as she felt rather 
than saw that Dr. Sinclair was annoyed at Saviotti’s attitude 
of attention. 

What possesses a good woman at times to act the coquette 
for the express purpose of enjoying the misery of another 


i66 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


fellow-mortal cannot be quite explained according to any 
known laws of order. 

“ C’est la simple verite,” protested the Count sentiment- 
ally. 

“ Richard,” spoke Mrs. Gascoigne softly, during this by- 
play, “ will you pin this over my shoulder for me ?” 

Now Mrs. Gascoigne could have fastened that pin in much 
more securely than the Doctor could possibly do it for her, 
but she wished to feel him near her, she longed to keep him 
and his attention all to herself. 

“ Certainly,” nodded the Doctor, taking the pin carelessly 
and attempting to do what she asked. But a man cannot 
pin a shawl about the shoulders of one woman, while his eyes 
and ears are straining and turning to see the face and catch 
the words of another. This Mrs. Gascoigne saw only too 
quickly, and taking the pin from out of his clumsy fingers, 
she sighed and whispered, “ Let me do it myself — so — now 
it’s all right. Bruin,” she whispered daringly, “ look at me.” 

His eyes turned upon her. He waited, — she did not speak. 
*‘What is it?” he said, lowering his voice unconsciously. 

“ Nothing ! ” she murmured back again. ‘T just wanted 
to know that you were here, that is all.” 

A month before, and he would have answered the fire in 
her eyes with a responding flash ; but now, he was greatly 
changed. He looked at her beautiful face a moment and 
then said coldly, ‘‘ Certainly I am here, I have no invisible 
cloak to cover me nor my failings. You are not cold, are 
you ?” he said politely, as she shivered slightly. 

“ Oh no, indeed!” she answered, with a strained note in 
her voice, as of a harp out of tune, “ not at all cold.” 

“ We’ll soon be dere now. Miss Kate,” said David; “ after 
we done pass dat point yonder, we turn in to de creek dat 
leads up to Fairy-land. You’se never been dar — has you. 
Miss Kate ? ” 

“ No, David,” laughed Kate excitedly, “ never before to- 
night. Oh I hurry, David, I can’t wait ! ” 

David smiled back at her with affection, and his great 
brawny hands pulled like black witches at the oars. It did 
not take long at this speed /or them to round the point, and 
then suddenly they seemed to come into a quiet, placid 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 167 

Stream as far removed from the swelling bay they had just 
left, as if it bore no relation to it in any way whatever. 

“ How still it is! ” said Kate, “and how everything reflects 
its shadow in the water — see ? ” 

“ Ah — yes ! Mais oui — it ees pairfect here. See dat 
leetle island — how it stands out — all alone ! ” said Count 
Saviotti. 

David rowed slowly now, steering his way irr and out 
among the rocks and shoals, now grazing the sides of the 
boat, now rowing with one oar, now with two. At last they 
came to the spot where the mangroves grew in all their 
weird beauty of glistening leaves and bending branches. 

“ Oh,” cried Kate, “ how lovely 1 ” 

“ Magnifique 1 ” said Count Saviotti. 

“ Beautiful ! ” murmured Mrs. Gascoigne. 

“Ah ! ” said the Doctor, catching his breath shortly. 

David had with natural pride chosen with clever skill the 
best entrance into Fairy-land. A small cove, a sort of ante- 
room into chambers yet to come, was the place he had 
artfully entered into. Overhead was a bower of leaves 
growing either side of great black poles, standing out like 
flute-like columns of a palace. To the right — to the left — 
before them and around, stretched stately seeming pillars — 
suggestive of all that was strange and magical — with the 
silver glistening of the moonlight and the musical rippling 
of the water. 

“ Oh ! ” said Kate earnestly, “ wait, just wait, David ! ” 

The negro smiled appreciatively, and nodded and rested 
on his oars. Not a sound was heard. Not a sound — save 
the lip-lap — lip-lap, of the water against the boat. 

There are times when Nature speaks out loud — so loud and 
so clear that all races and ages cannot help but understand. 
And this was one of those times. It spoke of what was 
untranslatable, of poetry, of color, of music, of beauty — and 
yet, with a still grander under-swell, it spoke of their Maker 
and their God ! 

“ Dr. Sinclair I ” said Kate falteringly. 

“Yes, Kate,” he answered simply. 

“ Mais it ees superbe ! ” broke in Count Saviotti inoppor- 
tunely, “ tres magnifique ! ” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


i6S 

“ Oh ! row on, David,” said Kate abruptly. 

The negro took up the oars and slowly moved ahead. 
The progress was not easy. The mangrove is a tropical 
tree of a genus not unlike the banyan of India, sending 
down its shoots and branches into Mother Earth to shift 
for themselves long before it reaches its own prime, or old 
age. It grows mostly at the mouths of rivers or on sea- 
coasts, and just here it was very luxuriant, making in places 
a perfect network of black reeds and silver leaves. David 
still pushed ahead, on and on, in and out, out and in, 
until they were in a perfect forest of ebony stalks and 
branches. 

“ How weird this is ! ” said Mrs. Gascoigne. “ I do not 
wonder it is named Fairy-land, for certainly it does not 
seem as if it were of this earth at all.” 

“ No,” said Kate gently, “ it doesn’t ; but I haven’t seen 
any fairies yet, David.” 

“ Has you done looked for dem. Miss Kate ? ” asked 
David, “for folks generally sees dem when dey tries hard 
’nuff.” 

“ Right you are, David ! ” broke in Dr. Sinclair with a 
laugh, “ one generally does see what one looks for in this 
world — be it fairies, or fancies of other kinds. Now I 
thought just a second ago that I saw a lovely one, over 
there ; just ahead of us.” 

“ What color robe did she hab on. Dr. Sinclair ? ” asked 
David eagerly. 

“ Silver,” answered the Doctor, unhesitatingly. 

“ Was it made of moonbeam threads? ” asked Kate. 

“ Now, Miss Kate,” protested David, “ you is pokin’ fun ; 
better not do dat, or else de fairies will spell you.” 

“ Oh, I shouldn’t mind that,” answered Kate dreamily ; 
“ I think I should rather like being under a fairy’s spell.” 

Just then the boat pushed out into an open space, into the 
bright moonlight. David rested his oars and they all looked 
about them. 

“ Why, the leaves seem dark-green in this light,” said 
Kate with surprise. “ I thought they were light.” 

“ Dere ! vot I tell you ! ” said the Count triumphantly, 

did I not tell you dat de moon glorify everyting ? ” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 169 

“Yes, they are dark,” said Dr. Sinclair, “ but a pretty 
shape, I think.” 

“ Are these the same as the cane-brakes you have in 
America, Dr. Sinclair ? ” asked Mrs. Gascoigne. 

“ No, they are not,” said the Doctor ; “ although they 
both grow in wet, marshy places they are quite of another 
family. Idie cane-brake is allied to the bamboo,- and is 
more of a reed or grass than the mangrove. Most bamboos, 
though, belong to dry, mountainous regions. One kind of 
bamboo will grow in arid places, where no other vegetation 
can live. And then the bamboo is so useful, you know. 
There are a few here in Bermuda. It’s a pity there are 
not more. The inside of the stems can be used for making 
paper, as they make use of it in China, you remember, and 
then the hollowed-out tubes are good afterwards for houses 
and bridges, and pipes and all sorts of things, and then the 
leaves for thatching houses or making hats.” 

“ Oh, yes,” interrupted Kate, ‘ I know that ; why, we 
bought hats here only the other day, at the hotel, of a woman 
who came around selling them, and they’re very pretty, too.” 

“ Ees — dis — mangrove — good for anything?” asked the 
Count. 

“ No, not much,” replied the Doctor. “ The fruit of the 
common mangrove is sweet and from its juice can be fer- 
mented a kind of light wine, but it don’t amount to much. 
The bark is sometimes imported for tanning purposes — but 
taking the mangrove altogether, it is not of much use, save 
for homes for fairies and such like. In most tropical 
countries, though, it usually serves for the hiding-place 
of much more deadly denizens ; here, fortunately, there 
are no reptiles — no coiled horrors entwined among its 
branches.” 

“ Ugh ! ” shuddered Kate. “ How terrible such places 
must be ! It makes me shiver to think of it.” 

“ A little ways furder. Miss Kate,” said David, “ is ’bout 
as far as we kin go — ” 

“ I guess we’ve gone far enough now,” said the Doctor. 
“ Turn about, David, but don’t hurry.” 

“ All right, sail.” 

^‘Come,” said Kate, “ let us sing. What shall it be \ ’• 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


170 


“ You’ll have to count me out,” said the Doctor. “ I never 
sang a note in my life — but I like to listen.” 

“Well, what do we all know ? ” said Kate. 

“ Je sais only de French song,” said Saviotti politely, “so 
you me will have to count out too. Mademoiselle.” 

“ And I’m afraid I only know English ones,” said Mrs. 
Gascoigne. 

“ Well, then,” said the Doctor, “you’ll each have to sing 
alone, as far as I can see. Come, Mrs. Gascoigne, let us 
hear from you first.” 

“Yes,” added Kate, “you first, Mrs. Gascoigne.” 

“Well then, very well,” she said, looking up archly at Dr. 
Sinclair. Her mellow contralto voice rang out superbly as 
she sang : 

“ My pretty Jane, my pretty Jane, 

Ah ! never, never look so shy. 

But meet me, meet me in the ev’ning 
While the bloom is on, is on the rye ; 

The spring is waning fast, my love. 

The corn is in the ear ; 

The summer nights are coming, love, 

The moon shines bright and clear. 

Then pretty Jane, my dearest Jane, 

Ah ! never look so shy ! 

But meet me, meet me, in the ev’ning, 

While the bloom, the bloom is on the rye. 

But name the day, the wedding-day. 

And I will buy, will buy the ring, 

The lads and lassies there in favors white, 

And the village bells, the village bells shall ring. 

The spring is wanmg fast, my love, 

The corn is in the ear, 

The summer nights are coming, love. 

The moon shines bright and clear. 

Then pretty Jane, my dearest Jane, 

Ah ! never look so shy. 

But meet me, meet me in the ev’ning. 

While the bloom, the bloom is on the rye.” 

“ Bravo ! Bravo ! ” cried the Count, clipping his hands. 

“That is very fine,” commented the Doctor, “ very fine.” 

“ Dear me ! ” said Kate, half pouting, “ I’ll be afraid to 
try after that ; you next, Count Saviotti, please,” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


171 

The Count took off his soft hat and held it against his 
breast in dramatic fashion, and, looking at Kate, sang out 
in rich baritone the following ; 

“ Oui, je t’aime, comme un bel ange, 

Echappe du divin sejour, 

Comme le bouton qui se change, 

En fleur a I’aube d’un beau jour ; 

Je t’aime, Je t’aime, 

Je t’aime comme I’esperance, 

Qui renait sous I’horizon noir, 

Je t’aime comme le silence, 

Que froise la brise du soir. 

Je t’aime comme I’e'glantine, 

Qui se penche avec majeste, 

Comme la suave aubepine, 

* Comme I’ormeau aue j’ai plants 
Je i’ aime, Je t’ aime, 

Je t’aime enfin comme mon ame, 

Aime d’amour le beau ciel bleu, 

Comme le cherubin en flamme, 

X jamais aimera son Dieu ! ” 

“ Good,” said the Doctor, “ I don’t understand the words, 
but the air is certainly good ; what was it about, Count ? ” 
Oh — n’importe,” shrugged Saviotti. “ I wait to hear 
from you, Mademoiselle,” leaning toward Kate. 

Kate drew back a little and then said — “ I’m afraid you 
wont like mine. Count ; .but it’s the only one I can think of 
just now.” Then her clear, girlish voice floated out sweetly 
over the water — that old negro melody so dear to American 
hearts : 

“ Way down upon de Swa-nee ribber, 

Ear, far away, 

Dere’s whar my heart is turning ebber, 

Dere’s whar de old folks stay. 

All up and down de whole creation, 

Sadly I roam. 

Still longing for de old plantation, 

And for de old folks at home. 

CHORUS ; 

All de world am sad and dreary, 

Ebery where I roam. 

Oh ! darkeys, how my heart grows weary. 

Far from de old folks at home. 


172 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


All round de little farm I wandered, 

When I was young, 

Den many happy days I squandered 
Many de songs I sung. 

When I was playing wid my brudder. 

Happy was I, 

Oh ! take me to my kind old mudder, 

Dere let me lib and die. 

CHORUS : 

All de world am sad and dreary, 

Ebery where I roam, 

Oh ! darkeys, how my heart grows weary, 

Far from de old folks at home.” 

“ Oh, Miss Kate,” said David, “ dat makes me home- 
sick — makes me feel bad right here ; but it’s jess bu’ful.” 

“ That always had been one of my favorites,” said the 
Doctor quietly. 

“ Ah ! Mademoiselle,” sighed the Count tenderly, “ mais 
vous avez la voice sympathetique, le timbre d’amour ! Vill 
you not sing something else ? ” 

“ No,” answered Kate, annoyed at the Count’s persistent 
attitude of devotion ; “ I don’t feel in the mood now, if 
you’ll excuse me. Doctor,"” she said with an effort, “ you 
ought to tell us a story now to make up for not singing, 
wont you ? ” 

“ Story ! ” smiled Dr. Sinclair. “ Why, Miss Kate, I don’t 
know any save those tragic tales of old Mother Goose, I’m 
afraid. You remember perhaps about — 

“ ‘ Jack and Jill went up the hill. 

To get a pail of water — 

Jack fell down, and broke his crown. 

And Jill came tumbling after.’ ” 

“ Oh, yes,” pouted Kate, “ and I know too about — 

“ ‘ Says the pieman to simple Simon, 

Show me first your penny — 

Says simple Simon to the pieman. 

Indeed I haven’t any.’ ” 

“ Were you not always sorry for him ? ” asked the Doctor 
innocently. “ I was. I can remember quite distinctly, 
when I was a wee toddler^, being filled with the philan^ 


STOLEN AMERICA. 173 

thropic desire to give him one of my own few treasured 
coppers.” 

“ Mother Goose — it ees the book for children — n’est-ce 
pas ? ” said the Count. 

“ Yes, for children,” agreed Kate. A moment later she 
said : “ Why, David ! here we are at the Point again. How 
short it seems coming back ! I wonder why it is, Mrs. Gas- 
coigne, that a road we have once passed over, when we go 
over it again — it seems so much shorter. Can you tell me ? 
The distance is the same both times, of course.” 

“Don’t ask me. Miss Weston,” laughed Mrs. Gascoigne; 
“I never can tell you the reason of anything; I only know 
that it is so.” 

The remaining distance back to the hotel was passed over 
very quickly with joke and talking and merry-making. But, 
underneath all the seeming lightness and fun, what a differ- 
ent stratum of feeling lay ! Kate was restless — unlike her 
usual self — stirred by the beauty of the night. Mrs. Gas- 
coigne was filled with the one intense desire to have Dr. Sin- 
clair to herself and to keep him at her feet as of old. The 
Count was brimming over with a reckless intention of taking 
Kate by storm — having her for his own at any cost against 
all powers of heaven or of earth. Dr. Sinclair was hot with 
wrath against the man who, even by a look, dared to lay a 
claim to Kate. To Kate — he — Count Saviotti, to dare to 
think of her?! Of her, his one sweet, pure woman out of 
all the great lonely world! His heart beat in great angry 
throbs, he had all he could do to control himself. 

At last the stone steps of the hotel were reached. David 
sprang out first and held the boat, Saviotti after him, and 
he held out his hand to Kate. 

“You had best go next, Mrs. Gascoigne,” said Dr. Sin- 
clair. She arose to do his bidding. Nothing was pos- 
sible to the Count but to extend his hand politely to her 
also. 

The Doctor then stepped out and said coolly : “You and 
Mrs. Gascoigne go on up. Count. Miss Kate and I will be 
there in a moment, as soon as I settle with David,” — taking 
some change out of his pocket to pay him. 

“Certainement,” gritted the Count through his teeth. 


174 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


ceremoniously offering Mrs. Gascoigne his arm, “Permettez, 
madame?” 

She took his arm in silence and they walked on. By the 
time the Doctor had found the correct amount for David 
and helped Kate out of the boat, the Count and Mrs. Gas- 
coigne had reached the piazza. They could hear Allison’s 
questions and their replies, and the voices of Mr. and Mrs. 
Weston. 

“Good-night, David,’’ said Kate sweetly; “we had a 
beautiful row — even if we didn’t see the fairies.’’ 

“Good-night, Miss Kate, and Doc’ Sinclair,’’ tipping his 
old hat respectfully, “I’se right proud dat you done enjoyed 
de ’scursion.’’ 

The Doctor took hold of Kate’s arm and they too walked 
up the slope toward the piazza. “Kate,’’ said Dr. Sinclair 
abruptly, “will you do somediing for me? I know it’s early 
yet ; but will you — will you go to your room at once and 
rest? Say you’re tired — say anything; but will you go?’’ 

“Yes,’’ said Kate simply, “I am quite willing to go.” 

“Oh, thank you!’’ the relief in his voice was so great, 
that Kate, rather startled, glanced at him. His strong face 
looked tense and set, and she felt instinctively that he was 
in no mood to be trifled with. As soon as they reached the 
steps Kate gave aii exaggerated yawn, and said : ‘ ‘Will every- 
body excuse me, please? I am going to my room. Yes, 
Fred, the row was lovely and we saw a fairy’s Virginia Reel, 
and it was just beautiful. Oh, no, mamma, I haven’t caught 
cold. Good-night all! Good-night, everybody! Good- 
night Mrs. Gascoigne, Count Saviotti! Good-night!’’ and 
throwing the hood off her head and beginning to unbutton 
her cloak, Kate left them, walking on through the long 
hallway and so on up to her room. 

An hour later Count Saviotti and Mrs. Gascoigne were 
the only ones remaining seated upon the piazza. 

“Miserable!’’ he said to her, with ugly hate in his voice 
and face, “Vy can you not keep him? Sacre!’’ 

“Why can you not keep her?’’ she said sarcastically. 
“Surely it should be an easy task to the irresistible Count 
Saviotti to catch and keep the fancy of an untrained, crude, 
jeune Americaine! Good-night, Monsieur! I too am going 


STOLEN AMERICA. 175 

to my room. Dormez bien!” She arose and made him a 
mocking courtesy. 

“Diable!” he snarled through his teeth, “Diable!” She 
bowed again at this parting benediction, and then, smiling, 
left him. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

The next morning Dr. Sinclair and Mr. Weston were stand- 
ing on the piazza of the hotel, waiting for Mrs. Weston, 
Kate and Emily. They were going for a drive toward 
Harrington Sound. Allison was also one of the party, but 
he had disappeared for some reason or other, a few minutes 
before. 

“By the way. Doctor,” said Mr. Weston in a low tone of 
voice, “I haven’t seen a thing suspicious about Saviotti’s 
actions lately; have you? I’ve kept my eye on him pretty 
sharply, but I must say I haven’t seen a sign of anything 
but what was as square and as above-board as we could 
have been ourselves; have you?” 

“No,” answered the Doctor, “I haven’t, and it puzzles 
me, for of course that wretch of a sailor is on the Island yet 
somewhere, and it is more than likely but what they have 
had some communication with each other. 

“I can’t understand it,” said the Doctor musingly; “for 
when you and I haven’t been keeping watch, Mrs. Gascoigne 
has, you know, so that he has had no chance of seeing any 
one without our knowing it.” 

“Hum,” said Mr. Weston, “are you quite sure that Mrs. 
Gascoigne is all straight. Doctor?” 

“She? Straight? Of course; she detests the Count as 
surely as we do ; I can hear it in her voice every time she 
speaks to him, and besides,” said the Doctor, with a touch 
of manlike vanity, “she’d do anything for me, you know.” 

“Yes, I see that; still — I have fancied at times that she 
spoke to him almost too freely and too easily. As if they 
knew each other very well indeed, you know. Now, one 
night, for instance, I came upon them talking together, in 
one of the upper hallways, and heard her say this sharply : 

* Do as you please : I cant do any more for you tha7i 1 have 


176 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


done.' Then, upon catching sight of me, she added in 
quite a different tone of voice, ‘What do you think, Mr. 
Weston? Count Saviotti is teasing me to come down again 
in the drawing-room to-night and sing for him ! As late as 
this ! Do you not think he ought .to be satisfied? I tell him 
I can’t do any more for him this evening, that I’m weary!’ 
I told her certainly I thought he ought to be ashamed of 
himself, and he — the French monkey! — he bowed, and 
scraped and parley-voused and got away quickly enough. 
And then she chatted and laughed with me a few moments 
in the hall, and didn’t seem tired one bit. Then she left 
and went to her room, and no doubt laughed to herself to 
think how cleverly she had thrown dust in my eyes. And 
so she had — that is, to a certain extent.” 

“Ah,” answered Dr. Sinclair abruptly; “I am glad you 
told me of this, Mr. Weston.” 

Mr. Weston nodded and smiled, and was about to speak, 
when Allison rushed up to them from in-doors and said ; 
‘‘Oh ! so you are not gone I was dreadfully afraid that you 
might have gone on without me. But I had to get it, you 
know. ” 

‘‘Get what?’*’ said Mr. 'Weston. 

‘‘Lunch for ’em,” gasped Allison, still out of breath, 
‘‘Stark says in his Guide-book that if the visitor should come 
to the place when they’re hungry, and dip the end of his 
boot or pocket-handkerchief among the gaping throng, that 
he will soon become convinced that they are a fearful lot of 
creatures to deal with.”* 

“What are you talking about, you crazy boy,” exclaimed 
Mr. Weston, ‘‘who’s going to eat boots and handkerchiefs?” 

‘‘Why, the fish in the Devil’s Hole, where we’re going 
this morning,” said Allison. “They call them gropers, and 
they are horrible, you know — have mouths as big as that.” 

“Oh,” said Mr. Weston, smiling indulgently, “that’s it, 
is it?” 

Oh, here you are ! ” exclaimed Allison as the ladies made 
their appearance, and to Emily he said: “You’ve kept me 
waiting as usual, Miss Emily. Not that I complain, only 
it tires a fellow to keep standing around doing nothing all 
day,” 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 177 

Emily glanced at his heated face, and at a few drops of 
perspiration on his forehead, and replied quietly: 

“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Allison, but you haven’t the 
appearance of having kept very still and quiet.’’ 

Allison burst out into one of his hearty boyish laughs, and 
said: “Caught again. What is there you don’t see, I won- 
der? This way, please. No — that carriage is for you, Mrs. 
Weston,’ this one for Dr. Sinclair, Miss Kate, Miss Emily, 
and myself.’’ 

All were seated in the carriage just about ready to start, 
when Mrs. Weston said complainingly : “John, I don’t like 
this carriage a bit; the seat is very uncomfortable.’’ 

“ Sorry, my dear,’’ answered Mr. Weston dubiously, “but 
it’s the best I could do for you this morning; all the others 
are taken.’’ 

“What is that, mama; aren’t you comfortable,’’ said Kate 
jumping out of her seat and going to her mother. “Let me 
have it. I can ride in anything; it doesn’t matter to me, 
you know.’’ 

“Are you. sure, Kate, my dear?’’ replied her mother 
sweetly, “but then you always were so strong and well that 
perhaps it would be better. Ah'! What would I not give 
to have your robust constitution, child!’’ 

Mr. Weston helped out his fragile half in complete silence. 
She glanced up at him, and said half pettishly, “You 
know my back is very weak, John, and I never could stand 
fatigue or being uncomfortable. Ah ! no one knows that as 
well, John, as you and I: Do they?’’ 

“No, mother,’’ he answered wdth a smothered sigh, “no 
one knows it as well as I.’’ She was helped into the other 
carriage, and Kate took her place in the first one. 

As soon as she had attained her point and was in the 
midst of the young people, and seated by the side of the 
Doctor, her spirits rose, the fretted lines in her face van- 
ished, and in its place was a sweet woman, whose pretty 
ways were a pleasure to look at — if one could only forget 
the selfishness underneath. 

“Go first to the Devil’s Hole, driver,’’ shouted out Alli- 
son, “go by the south road, as we want to go to the Walsing- 
ham Caves afterward.’’ 


178 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“Very well, sir,” the man answered, and off they started. 

Kate looked up at her father and smiled, well contented. 
He patted her hand a moment, and smiled back at her. 
They understood each other without words. Both knew 
and appreciated the mother’s weak selfishness, and both 
ever, with a loyal kindliness, strove to hide it from others. 

But it is a question, after all, if this generous shielding 
and saving of selfishness from its rightful deserts is a good 
thing. “The divine right of helplessness” is one matter, 
the greedy ravenousness of selfishness is another. But it 
will probably be so always, that the generous surplus of one 
human being, will be used up in supplying the weak spots 
in another. 

In course of time the carriages reached their destination. 
It was found that a small sum had to be paid before entrance 
could be gained ; the pond being surrounded by a fence with 
a padlocked door. 

“Devil’s Hole, or Neptune’s Grotto,” said Allison, as 
they entered, “take your choice of names.” They walked 
down a few irregular steps and then came to a basin perhaps 
twenty feet by twenty-five, surrounded by a few shrubs and 
vines. As their footsteps resounded on the plank walk that 
led to the Hole, a rushing sound was heard, the water was 
seen to be in a state of commotion, and then, at their feet 
was a crowd of hungry, gaping fish, pushing and shoving 
each other out of the way in a fashion very much after the 
manner of the higher order of existences, when they scram- 
ble for the prizes in life. Some of the sb*onger of the 
gropers kept their heads clear out of the water, their huge, 
ugly mouths wide open ready to catch anything that was 
thrown to them. 

“Ugh! how ugly they are!” said Kate shrinkingly. 

“Not all of them,” answered the Doctor, “see, there are 
other sorts, Miss Kate; look over there, isn’t he a beauty?” 

“That is what we call an angel-fish,” explained Emily, 
“because its coloring is so beautiful. See, see that one ! It 
is blue and green and gold.” 

“Yes,” said Allison, “and they’re the vainest things. 
They know they’re good-looking. See them swim up and 
turn over and show off ! ” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


179 


“They are not the same as the angel-fish I have seen else- 
where,” said the Doctor; “those are so named on account 
of their wing-like fins, and are of the shark tribe. These 
seem to be different.” 

“Now, Mrs. Weston,” said Allison, “just throw in this 
piece of bread, and see them hustle.” 

“Oh, Fred,”said Mrs. Weston, holding the bit of bread 
daintily between her fingers, “they wont hurt me, will they? 
They can’t get out” 

“Nonsense, my dear,” said Mr. Weston quickly. “Just 
throw it to them.” 

She threw it, and instantly, splash — ripple— and dash ! 
Not only the near-by waiters went for it, but other fish 
seemed to come from all the corners of the pond after that 
one bit of bread. 

“Well, I never saw anything like it, exclaimed Mr. Wes- 
ton. “Do you starve them, my man, that they act like 
this?” 

“No, sah!” answered the darkey in attendance, “not at 
all, sah, but they nebber seems to know when dey has ’nulf. 
Dere is some folks and some fishes dat way, sah.” 

“ That’s so,” laughed Mr. Weston, “you are quite right.” 

“ What keeps the water so fresh, I wonder,” asked Kate, 
“for there are no springs on the island. I’ve heard.” 

“ De Debbil hisself. Miss,” grinned the darkey, “ least- 
ways dats what I tinks, for dere’s no oder way for the water 
to git hyar.” 

“ There is some subterranean communication with the 
ocean of course,” said the Doctor, “ as the water is salt. 
Just where, we can’t see, but it’s there all the same.” 
After a while, the stock of bread was exhausted, and they 
had seen all they cared to of this curious “ Devil’s Hole.” 

Then once more in the carriages again, they were soon 
bowling along toward Walsingham Caves. When they 
reached the northeastern coast skirting Walsingham Bay, 
many were the exclamations of admiration. The shore is 
irregular, broken into varied and beautiful designs by that 
one great and capricious artist, Nature. At last the particu- 
lar place was reached where are situated what is known as 
the Walsingham Caves. They are inseparably connected 


l8o STOLEN AMERICA. 

with the famous Irish bard, Thomas Moore, for when he 
was given the post of ‘‘ Register of the Court of Vice-Admir- 
alty of Bermuda,” one of his favorite spots was just near 
this beautiful part of the island. 

A large calabash-tree near the entrance to one of the 
caves is named after him, and is one of the first things that 
is pointed out to visitors. The carriages had to be left a 
short distance away, as the ground was too uneven for safe 
riding. 

All stood and gazed at the tree, and it spoke to them, as 
each were able to listen. 

“ How green the calabashes are,” said Mrs. Weston, “but 
I suppose they are not ripe yet.” 

“ Hold on a second,” said Allison climbing up, “and I’ll 
pitch some down to you.” 

“ It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Mr. Weston? ” said Emily gently. 

“ Yes,” nodded Mr. Weston ; “ looks as if it had been 
here fo: ages — looks solid.” 

“ And I suppose it was here,” said Kate dreamily, “that 
Moore wrote some of his beautiful songs, don’t you think 
so. Doctor ? ” 

“ I’ve no doubt of it. Miss Kate ; for to one of his tem- 
perament, who was never contented with what was, but 
always cast a halo around what had been, it seems quite 
likely that the beauty of this spot, and his lonely isolation, 
should have inspired some of his best verses. As for 
instance : 


“As slow our ship, her foamy track, 

Against the wind was cleaving, 

Her trembling pennant still looked back, 

To that dear isle ’twas leaving : 

So loath to part from all we love. 

From all the links that bind us, 

So turn our hearts, where’er we rove, 

To those we’ve left behind us.” 

“ Know the rest of that ? ” asked- Mr. Weston. 

“Yes,” said the Doctor, “want to hear it ? It ought to 
be sung, but I can’t sing, you know.” 

“Go on, never mind the music,” replied Mr. Weston. 

The Doctor spoke : 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


l8l 


“ When round the bowl of vanished years, 

We talk with joyous seeming. 

And smiles that might as well be tears, 

So faint, so sad their beaming. 

While memory brings us back again 
Each early tie that twin’d us, 

Oh ! sweet’s the cup that circles then 
To those we’ve left behind us. 

“ And when in other climes we meet 
Some isle or vale enchanting, 

Where all looks flow’ry, wild and sweet. 

And nought but love is wanting ; 

We think how great had been our bliss, 

If Heaven had but assigned us. 

To live and die in scenes like this. 

With some we’ve left behind us ! 

“ As trav’lers oft look back at eve, 

When eastward darkly going, 

To gaze upon that light they leave. 

Still faint behind them glowing — 

So, when the close of pleasure’s day. 

To gloom hath near consigned us. 

We turn to catch one fading ray ' 

Of joy, that’s left behind us ! ” 

“Thank you,” said Mr. Weston, “that’s very good; got 
more sense in it than most poetry.” 

“Oh, papa!” said Kate, “poetry is not intended to be 
like lectures, or dry old essays. It’s only meant to picture 
the beautiful, don’t you know?” 

“No, I don’t know, child. I don’t know anything about 
it. I only know that I don’t like anything that is senseless, 
be it an essay or a poem. Some way most verses seem to 
be only an escape-valve for people to let off steam that is no 
good to themselves nor anybody else.” 

“Do you like Moore’s ‘Lalla Rookh,’ Doctor?” asked 
Kate. 

“No, not so very well. It’s too much like a display of 
fireworks. Brilliant and dazzling, but leaving afterwards 
on your hands an empty framework, and a smell of powder. 
Moore will always be best remembered for his light melodies, 
I think. One song of his alone will last while the world 
goes round.” 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


182 

“What’s that?’^ asked Mr. Weston. 

“ ‘ ’Tis the Last Rose of Summer,’ “ replied the Doctof. 

“Why, did he write that?’’ exclaimed Kate. “And 
maybe — perhaps, ’twas here that he wrote it ! Do you know. 
Doctor, if it was?’’ she asked eagerly. 

“No, Miss Kate,’’ he smiled. “I do not know for a cer- 
tainty, but it is possible that it was here.’’ 

Kate glanced again at the spreading branches of the cala- 
bash tree, and looked all about her with a sort of rever- 
ence. 

“Some way, places that have had great people near them 
always look different from other places,’’ she said, as she 
caught a slightly quizzical expression upon her father’s 
face. 

“It’s in yourself, Kate dear, and not in the places,’’ said 
Mr. Weston. “Well, where’s the man to show us the Caves? 
Ah! here you are. What are you gathering those dry 
branches for? To light up the Cave? Why don’t you have 
torches of some sort? That’s a very poor way of doing the 
thing, isn’t it?’’ 

“No, sah ! not at all, sah. Dese ere will light up the Cave 
jess as well as anything else. Jess you wait and you’ll see.’’ 

All now followed the darkey guide and crowded around 
the entrance to the Cave. “Look out for your heads, ladies 
and gemplums, de ceilin’s a little low just hyar.’’ 

“We stoop to conquer!’’ cried Allison. “Look out for 
your hat, Mr. Weston.’’ 

Once inside tho roof was high enough, stretching up 
into a dome, studded with marble pendants, glistening like 
the crystal icicles of winter. A small strip of land extended 
for about twelve feet in, then came a clear, quiet lake, edged 
by a sort of shelving which ran along its sides for a short 
distance. Allison tripped along it as.lightly as a deer, until 
he no longer had an inch of foothold. 

“Take care, Fred,’’ expostulated Mr. Weston. “You 
might tumble in there: better look out.’’ 

“Oh, I’m all right,’’ Allison returned. “I just wanted to 
see how far I could go. The path stops here. Can’t go on 
any farther without a boat. Got one?’’ turning to the 
darkey guide eagerly. 


STOLE jsr AMERICA, • 

“Oh no, sah; we doan 'low no boats in hyar. It wouldn’t 
be safe, sah.” 

‘‘How wonderful it is!” said Kate in a tone of awe. 

“Humph,” said the Doctor. “It’s smaller than I thought 
for. Is this as far as we can go, my man?” 

“No sah,” returned the guide proudly, “I’se not showed 
you de biggest part yet, but I doan know as de ladies kin 
go dar,” looking doubtfully at Mrs. Weston, Kate and Emily. 

“Go ahead, and we’ll soon see,” said Mr. Weston. 

The darkey turned to the left, and led them along a nar- 
row lane or passageway. Suddenly they came upon a lad- 
der, which led down into depths below. 

“Do we go down there,” ^sked the Doctor. 

“Yes, sah, I specs dat too much for de ladies, sah?” 

“Let me see,” said Mr. Weston, looking over the Doctor’s 
shoulder. “Phew! That is rather steep. I know you 
can’t go, mother,” speaking to Mrs. Weston, “but perhaps, 
Kate, you can manage it.” 

“I’m sure, John,” answered Mrs. Weston pettishly, “that 
I am not so old but what I can go where Kate can.” 

“My dear, it isn’t a question of age at all, it is a question 
of nerve only, and you know you are not strong, dear,” hypo- 
critically referring to one of her pet theories. “See? See 
how steep it is?” 

One look at the chalky, muddy, ugly ladder was enough 
for Mrs. Weston. 

“Why, John,” she exclaimed. “I should say not! 
Such a place! No, thank you. I’ll stay up. Dear me, 
why don’t they build nice easy stairs there, instead of put- 
ting up such a thing as that? No, indeed; I wouldn’t go 
down there for the world. Just take me outside and I’ll 
wait in the carriage until you are all ready to come out.” 

“Very well, mother.” 

The guide turned around and escorted Mrs. Weston back 
to the entrance, and then returned to the rest of the party 
that had waited in the darkness until he should come back 
to them. 

“Now jess hold on a minute, sah; let me git down first 
and light up another branch, so you’se kin see to help de 
young ladies down.” He disappeared down the slippery 


184 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


ladder, and then in a moment a red blaze lit up the crude 
and dangerous stairway. Mr. Weston went first, reaching 
up his hand to Kate; then came Allison, then Emily, .and 
finally the Doctor. All reached the lower floor of the cave 
in safety, and with the exception of some chalky white mud 
on their clQthers,none the worse for the attempt. 

The branches fired by the guide crackled and blazed and 
lit up the cavern before them. 

“Hurrah,” cried Allison, “this is something like.” 

“This is fine,” said Mr. Weston emphatically. 

“I never saw a better specimen of limestone formation,” 
assented Doctor Sinclair. 

“Oh, this is like some grand cathedral,” exclaimed Kate. 
“It .is beautiful ! ” 

“I’m glad you like it,” said Emily softly, native pride 
shining in her eyes, at their evident appreciation of this part 
of her island home. “It always seems wonderful to me.” 

Down from the ceiling grew slender stems of white, — up 
from the floor they stood upon came out, here and there, 
marble-like pillars. Before them was a yet larger body of 
water than the one above, which seemed to stretch away 
into the dusky darkness beyond, like the River of Death, 
weird and strange and awful. 

“How far does this extend in? Do you know?” asked 
Mr. Weston of the guide. 

“Can’t jess say, sah. No one’s ever been in dar, sah, 
cause, — ” and here he lowered his voice to a solemn, deep- 
toned whisper, “de souls ob people dat can’t rest on account 
ob dere sins, wanders in dere, up and down, up and down, 
crying for mercy to de Lamb.” 

“Well, what if they do?” asked Allison, “they wouldn’t 
hurt you, would they?” 

The guide was an old negro with white hair and beard. 
He looked at Allison with stern reproof in his eye and an- 
swered : 

“You speak, young man, with de foolishness ob youth! 
When you is as ole as me, you’ll know, sah, dat de cries of 
lost sperets is hard to heyar, sah, hard to heyar!” 

There was silence for a moment, and then Mr. Weston 
said; 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


185 

“How wonderful is the power of water! Just think of 
this being eaten out by its quiet moving, for I suppose that’s 
it, Doctor?’’ 

“Yes,’’ said the Doctor. The stalagmites and the stalac- 
tites ’’ 

“I bet you a quarter, Kate,’’ interrupted Allison, “that 
you can’t tell me which goes up and which comes down! I 
never could until I made a discovery one day.’’ 

“What was that?’’ asked the Doctor, amused. 

“Well, I’ll tell you, but don’t tell it generally, for I’m 
going to patent it some time. It’s this way. Stalactite., with 
an accent on the sceond syllable, has a ‘c’ in it. See?’’ 

“Yes,’’ said Kate. 

“Well, that stands for 'coming down.' Stalagmite., ac- 
cent on second syllable, has a ‘g’ in it, and that stands for 
'going up.' See? Understand? Since I thought of that, 
I never get ’em mixed. Now I can tell you all about them 
just as straight as the Doctor can. Observe Miss Emily; 
These are stalactites, coming down like the twinkles of an 
old chandelier; those are stalagmites, going up like — like — 
Well, I don’t know what they go up like, but they go up any 
way. See?’’ 

“Yes, I see,’’ answered Emily with her soft, low laugh. 
“And when I see them now, I shall always remember them 
and think of you.’’ 

“Oh! will you?’’ said Allison. “Thanks, that’s good of 
you.’’ 

“I suppose. Doctor, ’’ said Kate, “that it has taken a long 
time for these stalactites and stalagmites to be formed?’’ 

“Yes, a good while, but still not so long as we think, per- 
haps, as limestone is so soft, you know.’’ 

“Just how are they formed. Doctor? I don’t quite under- 
stand,’’ said Mr. Weston. 

“Well, like this,’’ answered the Doctor, smiling happily 
as he ever did when he was able to give any information. 

“Almost all surface water, or rainwater, is impregnated 
with carbonic acid more or less. This is able to dissolve 
lim, and holds a certain proportion of it in solution. Now 
water, passing through limestone rocks, such as these, are 
charged with this carbonate of lime. It percolates through 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


1 86 

the roof, and the water evaporates either as it falls, or after 
some of it has fallen to the floor. When it evaporates as it 
falls, stalactites are formed. When it evaporates as it is ex- 
posed on the floor, a thin deposit of solid carbonate of lime 
is left, and that is gradually added to, little by little, until we 
get such stalagmites as these.” 

‘‘I see,” nodded Mr. Weston, “I see.” 

“Caves mostly occur in limestone rocks, although, of 
course, there are many that are otherwise formed. The red 
sandstone series, for example, containing rock salt, a material 
easily moved by water, are quite common. Also in igneous 
rocks, as the lava, trap, or granite formation, supposed to 
have been melted by subterranean heat, as the picturesque 
cave of Fingal and the Giant’s Causeway.” 

“Ever been in the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky?” asked 
Allison. 

“Yes,” replied the Doctor. ‘Thave. It is indeed a mar- 
vel, although no more so than others in different parts of the 
world. The Adelsburg of Styria, the Grotto of Antiparos 
in the Grecian Archipelago, Caves of the Peak in Derby- 
shire, Franconia Caves in Germany; but perhaps the most 
remarkable of all are the Kirkdale Caverns in England, near 
York. In these were discovered the ossified bones of thirty- 
three species of mammals and five of birds, about half of 
which yet survive in Europe, the other half being now ex- 
tinct. About three hundred hyenas have been seen, besides 
the bones of the animals on which they preyed. In some 
of the caves of Australia, the fauna of that early period 
shows a marked resemblance to the animals of the present 
day.” 

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t live then,” said Allison. “The 
elephant and the tiger are quite big enough for me. I’m 
satisfied.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Weston, “are you ready to return, girls? 
There’s nothing more to be seen here, I guess, and we may 
as well be getting back.” 

“I’m quite ready, papa,” said Kate. 

“And I’ve been here before, you know,” said Emily. 

The guide led the way back again up the steep and slip- 


STOLEN AMERICA. 187 

pery ladder, directing them with an air of importance proud 
of his temporary rule of power. 

In due time they reached daylight and the open air once 
more, and were surprised to find how warm it was. 

“Phew!” said Allison “it's like coming out of an ice-box 
into an oven.” 

“Not quite as bad as that, Fred,” said Mr. Weston, smil- 
ing. 

Mrs. Weston was discovered seated in the carriage, talk- 
ing with great animation to another carriage load of people, 
acquaintances from the Hamilton Hotel, who had also come 
to view the caves, but who, for want of a guide, were obliged 
to wait until the first party came out. After considerable 
chatting and talking it was decided that Mr. and Mr. Wes- 
ton, Kate, Allison, Emily, and Dr. Sinclair would remain 
where they were until their friends Jiad visited the wonder, 
and then all proceed home together. 

The guide once more started out on his mission of gen- 
eralship, leaving our friends together. They waited some 
time; then Dr. Sinclair said : “Miss Kate, would you mind 
taking a short drive with me? I would like to see what is 
up there beyond that group of trees.” 

“Why no, certainly not,” said Kate. “Mamma, will you 
take these for me, and keep them till I come back?” 
handing her a few specimens of the cave stalactites. “We 
wont be long.” 

They seated themselves in the one-seated vehicle that 
Kate and her father had driven in, and the Doctor took up 
the reins and clicked to the horse. The road was not very 
even, but with cautious driving they succeeded finally in 
reaching the trees in question. They were a group of palms, 
spreading out their fan-like fingers in all directions. The 
Doctor tied the horse to one of them, and then said : 

“Let us walk a piece up this way. We’ll have plenty of 
time to get back to the rest, before they are ready for us.” 

A few steps brought them to the ocean. “Oh!” said 
Kate, “how good the breeze feels! See that boat there. 
Doctor; couldn’t we go in it — just for a short way, and 
run along and see the shore? It would be much nicer than 
walking.” 


i88 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“Of course we could,” said Dr. Sinclair promptly. “Hey 
there, boy!” calling out to a young negro who was idly row- 
ing about, “want to earn a shilling?” The boy grinned, 
and otherwise showed his willingness by pushing in toward 
land, as quickly as he could. 

“Here,” said the Doctor, “give me that” — taking one 
of the oars from him. 

“Steady, Miss Kate, the water is pretty deep here. 
What’s your name, boy?” 

“Egbert Fitz- James Harrison, sah.” 

“My!” said the Doctor, “that’s a name worth having! 
Now, Egbert Fitz-James Harrison, do you see that shil- 
ling?” holding one up to view. 

“Yes, sah!” his black eyes sparkling and his bare black 
toes mining small ant-holes into the light sand. 

“Do you see that horse and carriage over there,” point- 
ing to it. 

“ Yes, sah ! ” 

“Well, if you take that horse and follow that path back, 
near to the cave you’ll come to some other ladies and gen- 
tlemen. You ask for Mr. and Mrs. Weston — understand 
the name ? — and say that ‘ Miss Kate and the Doctor’ will be 
back to them shortly. Now have you got that straight, 
Egbert Fitz-James Harrison ? ’’ 

“ Yes, sah. All right, sah. I’se to take de horse and ker- 
ridge back, and say dat de young lady and you is a-comin’ 
bime-by.’’ 

“ That’s it,” answered Dr. Sinclair. “ Now fly, Egbert, 
fly ! ’’ The small darkey grinned as the silver shilling was 
given into his little black palm, and hurried off toward the 
palms to untie the horse. The Doctor took up the oars and 
they pushed out from the shore. They went due north, 
keeping close to land, going slowly, idly rowing here and 
there ; now creeping in and out among tiny islands, now 
peeping in at miniature caverns, and enjoying all, as only 
two people can enjoy life who are instinctively of accord 
and a-tune. 

As the moments sped on, Kate’s spirits grew higher and 
higher, until a sort of merry recklessness seemed to possess 
her, As for Dr. Sinclair^ he beamed over with happiness, 


Mulletts Bay. — Dr. Sinclair and Kate hire a Boat and go Exploring. 





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STOLEN AMERICA. 


189 


Her slightest wish was a joy to him to follow ; he lost all 
sense of time or place. He was unconsciously absorbed. 
For once his calm analyzing of self and its emotions were 
not present. He was happy ! happy ! utterly and com- 
pletely, as a child, who has got the desire of his heart. The 
blue of the water rippled and danced about him, the sun 
shone bright and strong and warm, and there was Kate, 
Kate, her free, pure, bright self in the same boat with him. 

“ Suppose we go in there. Doctor,” said Kate, as they 
came to a large opening among the rocks, that was partly 
hid by flowering vines. “ It looks as if it was another cave. 
Suppose it is, and we discover it ! ” Her large gray eyes 
looked eager interest ; her slender hands pushed the clam- 
bering leaves aside. 

“ Well, we’ll soon see,” said the Doctor, pushing the boat 
in toward the place. 

“ Oh, pshaw ! I forgot, we haven’t any torch, any bran- 
ches, you know,” said Kate disappointedly. “ We couldn’t 
see a bit without that.” 

Haven’t we,” said the Doctor triumphantly. “ It’s 
good I’m a smoker, Kate, isn’t it? ” He took out a silver 
pocket match-safe, and held it up before her. “Wait a 
moment, till I break off a few branches first.” He stood 
up in the boat and, grazing close to the shore, secured 
several large branches of a dry undergrowth that grew 
near by. 

“ Now we’re all right,” he said, backing to the entrance. 
Kate lifted up a long spray of convolvulus, the Doctor 
put one oar aside, and simply used the other, and they 
entered. 

Egbert Fitz-James Harrison conducted the horse and 
carriage back to its proper destination, as he had promised, 
and delivered the message “ dat de young lady and de 
Doctor would be back presently,” as he had agreed to do ; 
then, considering that his full duty was accomplished, he 
made off as fast as his small black legs could carry him to a 
vicinity where a “ shillin’ ” could be put to the use that 
seemed only right and proper to a ten-year-old darkey. 

The boat he had surrendered to the Doctor and Kate was 


190 


STOLE AT AMERICA. 


not his own ; he had been merely borrowing it as a pas- 
time, when they had discovered him. Therefore it was not 
surprising that he had neglected to state to Mr. and Mrs. 
Weston the fact that “de Doctor and de young lady” had 
gone off in a boat at all. Certain it is, that he did not, so 
that as time passed on, and Dr. Sinclair and Kate did not 
return, much surprise and wonderment were expressed at 
their continued absence. Finally, after waiting over an 
hour for them, Mr. Weston settled the question by saying : 
“ Well, there’s no use in waiting for them any longer, 
mother. Probably Dr. Sinclair has discovered some new 
way of getting home and they may be back to the hotel 
before we are. Like as not, they’ve hired a couple of don- 
keys, and have driven home in tandem style long ago. At 
any rate, they can take care of themselves. It would be 
foolish to wait any longer for them.” 

“ Well, I’m glad you’ve made up your mind at last,” said 
Mrs. Weston whiningly, “ for I’m almost starved.” 

“You don’t think, Mr. Weston,” hesitated Emily, “that 
anything could have happened to them, do you ?” 

“ Of course not,” answered Mr. Weston ; “ if I did think 
so I couldn’t have been sitting here all this time. No, I 
think they’ve taken another way home, that is all.” 

The whole party now got into their respective carriages 
and, after the usual feeing of the cave guide, and buying 
specimens of the limestone from him, they were driven 
rapidly homeward. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

As Dr. Sinclair pushed the boat in through the narrow 
opening, they were surprised to find it suddenly broaden 
out into a space of of about twenty feet wide, and yet more 
surprised to see that it was quite light. “ Hello,” exclaimed 
the Doctor, “ this is strange. Guess there must be some 
sort of opening up there. Oh, yes ! see there, Kate, a 
natural skylight with real sky above it.” 

“Ah, how nice it is ! ” laughed Kate, clapping her hands 
childishly. “ I was just going to say to you that you’d have 
to light some pf those sticks, but now there’s no need. But 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


191 


isn’t it lovely here ; looks as if it might be really a home for 
beautiful mermaids, doesn’t it? See, those are their tables 
and those are their chairs, and those are shelves for them to 
put their dishes on.” 

“ Yes,” said the Doctor, “isn’t it too bad we happened to 
call when they were out ? ” 

“ They wont be very long,” said Kate. “ They’ve only 
gone shopping in Walsingham Bay, to get a few pearls for 
their hair and some sea-weed fringe to trim their best dress 
with.” 

“ Oh, is that all ?” said the Doctor. “Well, suppose we go 
on and see some of their other rooms, to pass away time 
until they come back.” 

“ Oh, yes,” cried Kate, “ let’s go ; but it looks darker in 
there.” 4^ 

“Just wait a second and I’ll light up,” said Dr. Sinclair. 
He took out his silver pocket match-safe, and opened it. 

“ Got many matches ? ” asked Kate. 

“ Lots,” he replied, “at least two dozen.” Striking one 
and then lighting the end of one of the resinous branches. 
“ There, Kate, I’ll only give you one piece at a time, as it 
gives plenty of light, and then we wont run short if we want 
to go in a good way. You’ll have to be torch-bearer, as I’ve 
to row, you see.” 

They pushed on for over ten minutes, passing by beauti- 
ful forms of coral and overhanging clusters of snow-white 
limestone. 

“ Why, this is far ahead of the other cave, Kate,” said the 
Doctor. “ I wonder that no one has ever discovered it.” 

“ We’ll call it America,” said Kate, “ if we find it’s big 
enough,” she added with a touch of mischief, “ for if it 
should suddenly end a little farther on and not be much 
after all, I wouldn’t lend it the name of my country.” 

“ Seems to me,” said the Doctor, “ that we’ve come pretty 
nearly to the end of it now.” 

“No, no, we haven’t ! ” cried Kate excitedly, “see there.” 
The wall of the cave on their right-hand side sloped do^vn 
so low that they had to bend over to keep their heads clear 
of it, but after a few feet of such progress, they came out 
into another and yet larger open space than they had seen 


192 


STOLEN A M ERICA . 


before. It was indeed grand and spacious, reaching up to 
a height of over thirty feet and decorated with snowy designs 
of Nature’s own frosting. 

“This is magnificent ! ” said Dr. Sinclair. 

“ In the name of all that is large and free, America— I 
christen thee ! ” said Kate recklessly, leaning over the side 
of the boat and throwing a handful of water up against the 
white sides of the cave. 

“ Would you like to get out for a few moments, Kate,” 
asked the Doctor, “you can here, if you wish, for it is so 
broad, you see, and I can fasten the boat by this chain to 
that point of coral there.” 

“ Yes,” said Kate, “ I would.” 

The Doctor rowed over to the point in question, fastened 
the boat securely, and then helped Kate out. 

“ Now,” he said, “we’re all right. Wait a minute, let me 
light another stick. There, that’s better. Well, well, but 
this is grand ! See over there, Kate. Let’s see if we can 
get up there. It looks like a miniature stage or platform.” 

Kate stepped lightly along and sprang nimbly up the 
irregular steps with a cry of delight. “ Oh ! but this is 
lovely! ” she said. “ See, Doctor ! See how beautiful it 
looks from here ! ” 

The Doctor joined her, and they both stood looking down 
upon the water below them. The elevation was not a high 
one, not over eight feet, but just high enough to lend an 
added beauty to the view of the cave. 

“ Now, sir,” said Kate, “ you can give the first of your 
course of lectures for the benefit of the Coast Defenses,” 
jumping down again, and going a short distance away from 
him. 

“ Hum,” said the Doctor, smiling down at her, “ if my 
distinguished friend will kindly give us the title of my first 
lecture. I’ll be much obliged to her. Someway I can’t seem 
to recall it.” 

“ Stolen America! ” cried Kated exultantly. 

“ Thank you,” cried the Doctor back again. “ That is 
it. Ladies and Gentlemen,” making a slow bow, “ I am 
here this moment as a trumpet, not to sound my own praises 
but to blo^v a bugle-note of warning ! A part of Ameriga 


STOLE AT AMERICA. 


193 


has been stolen ! Only a small portion of it to be sure, 
only a small island called Bermuda, but still it should have 
l.een ours. Take care of what yet remains to you! I am 
not going to divide my lecture into heads. I am only going 
to give you in simple form what is in one head,” tapping 
his forehead significantly. 

“ Hear, hear! ” cried Kate. 

“ Our country,” went on the Doctor, “ needs care. Now 
we only care for what we value, and we only value what is 
dear to us. And most things are dear to us because they are 
part of us, part of our life, part of our thoughts, part of us. 
A man is a Jew, why ? Because the Rabbi has taught 
him the Passover. A man is a Catholic, why ? Because 
the Priest has heard his childhood’s confessions. A man is 
a Protestant, why ? Because a respectable father and 
mother have taught him that all else was foolishness. 
A man is a Russian, why ? Because he has sucked in 
allegiance to the Czar with his earliest breath. A man is an 
Englishman, why ? Because he has sung, ‘ God save the 
Queen,’ and helped support her, ever since he could remem- 
ber. A man is an American, why ? Because he was born 
there, that’s all. Not because he loves his country! Not 
because he is proud of her! Not because with his earliest 
breath he has heard tales of her struggles and her bravery, 
her heroism and her nobility. Struggles! Aye, she has strug- 
gled. Through the meddling authority of the Mother 
Country, through her own growing pains of weakness, 
through all the diseases of childhood. Bravery ? Aye, she 
has been brave enough to fight any chaps near her own age 
and size, at any time! Heroism? Heroes? She is rich 
with them. Bow your heads, while I mention: Washington 
and Lincoln, Grant and Garfield. Nobility ? We have it, 
too simply grand to need the empty titles ; what is self- 
evident needs no idle naming. So, I say, we must first of 
all preach to the children ! Mother’s milk through the 
veins, is a part of all one’s after-strength. Instead of teach- 
ing your lad to lisp, ‘ The boy stood on the burning deck,’ 
suppose you make him say: 

‘ When I grow up a great big man. 

I’ll be a good American J ’ 


194 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


And instead of imbecile ballads and selections from the 
Operas, suppose you have sung in the public schools some- 
thing like this; ” 

The Doctor paused, and waved his hand in a lordly 
manner to Kate, as if he were the leader of an orchestra. 

Kate’s face dimpled into smiles and, catching his idea, 
she waved the blazing torch above her head, and sang in 
clear ringing tones: 

“The star-spangled banner ! 

Oh ! long may she wave ! 

O’er the land of the free, 

And the home of the brave ! ” 

“I’m sure,” went on the Doctor, “ that will be^ much more 
likely to make your boy grow up a good A’merican citizen, 
than if you made him drone out ‘ Down in a green shad%y 
dell, a modest violet grew.’ What do you think, ladies and 
gentlemen ? ” 

Just here the lecture terminated rather abruptly, as the 
light Kate was holding suddenly flickered, and went out. 

“ Oh, Doctor Sinclair ! ” cried Kate. 

“Yes, Kate,” said the Doctor quickly, “just one minute 
and I’ll be with you.” 

He struck a match, and held it up above his head, then 
sprang down to the level upon which Kate stood. 

“ Where is the stick ? ” he said. 

“ Here,” pushing it to him with trembling fingers, “ it 
frightens me to be in the dark. Doctor. Silly of me, isn’t it? ” 

“ Of course it is,” he laughed, as the fresh bright blaze 
lit up both their faces again, “ very silly of you, Kate. I 
thought you were made of sterner stuff.” 

“ Did you ? ” she said, “ I’m afraid not. Hadn’t we better 
get in the boat now ? ” 

“Yes, I think we had. Come to think of it, I wonder 
wliat time it is ? ” 

“ Oh, that’s so ! ” she exclaimed with compunction. “ I 
had forgotten the folks, hadn’t you ? ” 

“Yes,” he said, taking out his watch ; “ My goodness, 
we’ll have to hurry.” They walked back to the boat, and 
Kate got in first, the Doctor stepping in after her. 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


195 

“ Where are the rest of the sticks, Kate ? ” he asked 
as he took up the oars. 

- “ Right here, near my feet,” she answered. “ Want a 
fresh one ? ” 

“ Well, yes, I think we may as well light one now, as the 
one you have is nearly gone, and then I wont have to stop 
so soon in my rowing to fix another.” 

He laid down his oars again and took out the match-safe, — 
struck a match; it flickered, and went out. He tried to strike 
another on the edge of the case ; the match broke, and the 
case slipped from out his fingers and fell into the water. 

“ Did you drop it?” asked Kate, as she heard a splash. 

“ Yes,” he said. Then instantly, ‘‘Quick, Kate ! Give 
me that, and hand me another stick ! ” He reached over 
to her eagerly, and took the small stump of yet live spark 
from her fingers. Anxiously he strove to fan the smoulder- 
ing spark into a blaze to ignite the other branch. Gently 
he blew and blew upon it ; a feeble, feeble, last expiring 
flicker, and it was out ! and all was blackness around them. 

“ Oh,” said Kate, “that’s too bad.” A woman is always 
slower to apprehend a calamity than a man. 

“Yes,” said the Doctor, fully realizing what had befallen 
them ; “it is — bad.” The break in his voice caught Kate’s 
ear. 

“ Oh, now you are worrying about me,” she said brightly, 
“ don’t. I shall not mind the darkness after a few minutes. 
I’ll get used to it, and then we’ll soon row out of it, 
you know. Perhaps you have another match in your pockets 
somewhere.” He caught at her suggestion with trembling 
hope. Carefully he ran his fingers into all the pockets of 
his clothes, carefully and as tenderly as a mother touches 
her new-born babe, his shaking fingers covetously felt in 
every nook and corner. All in vain ! Nothing that could 
help them was there. 

“No,” he said faintly “not one.” 

“Oh, never mind,” answered Kate, still cheerily; “we’ll 
get along without it well enough, I dare say. Better row 
on now. Doctor, as we must hurry back. I’m afraid papa 
will think that we are lost.” 

The words, said so carelessly, vibrated through Dr. Sinclair 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


196 

like a tolling knell. “Yes, Kate,” he managed to answer, 
taking up the oars with great effort, for he felt strangely 
weak with a prophetic prescience of what might yet be before 
them. But he was a man of strong will and he loved the 
woman so near him. This very love for the moment had 
rendered him almost helpless, but it also, after a little, gave 
him strength. Soon his hands ceased their trembling and 
shaking, and he took slow, steady strokes with the oars, moving 
on slowly into the darkness. He rowed the boat in the direc- 
tion in which he thought lay the narrow passage-way through 
which they had come. On through the darkness that was 
blacker than that of night, with no sound save the splash of 
the oars, and the low swish of the boat as it moved through 
the water. Suddenly a jar and shock startled them. 

“Oh,” said Kate, “we must have run into the side 
somewhere. ” 

“Yes,” answered Sinclair, his voice steady at last, “we did. 
You see Lady Kate, it isn’t so easy to guide quite straight 
when one is blindfolded in this way.” 

“No,” replied Kate, still unsuspecting of any possible 
danger, “no, I should say not. Doesn’t the darkness make 
your eyes ache, Doctor?” 

“No,” he said, “the reason yours does, is because you 
are involuntarily striving to see. Don’t do it, Kate. Keep 
your eyes shut as much as you can. It wont make any 
difference, you know, and it will strain them less.” He 
pushed out from the side of the cave into deeper water, and 
rowed on again. On and on, and still no light, only the 
impenetrable blackness as before, on and on. Suddenly Dr. 
Sinclair gave a joyful exclamation, “Why didn’t I think of 
it before!” he said. 

“What is it?” asked Kate. 

“Why, do you know I believe, Kate, that I’ve been pro- 
bably rowing about in a circle all this time? And at this 
rate we might go on forever. I’ve an idea,” he said bouy- 
antly. “The next time we strike against the shore or sides, 
instead of pushing out into deep water again, we’ll hug the 
shore, feel carefully as we go along with our hands, and 
then we’ll be sure at last to strike that low opening. See?” 

“Why, yes,” replied Kate, “that’s just the thing.” 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


197 


It wasn’t long before the boat grazed the side of the cave 
again. Dr. Sinclair instantly stopped rowing, put one oar 
in the bottom of the boat, kept the other across his knees, 
and eagerly felt with both hands against the rocky sides. 

“No opening just here,” said Kate, “that I can make 
out.” 

“ No, not yet,” said the Doctor hopefully, “but we’ll 
move on very slowly and cautiously, and not miss one foot 
of the way. ’’ This they did, grazing their hands and wrists, 
knocking their heads at times, when the projections from the 
sides of the cave hung low, but with no success. Still they 
kept on, Kate by this time realizing a little of the disaster 
that had come upon them. At last the Doctor gave an 
exclamation of joy. 

“Kate, I think this is it! It certainly curves in and 
under different from where the wall is straight. We’ll fol- 
low it and see, any way.’’ Eagerly and hopefully, he cau- 
tiously pushed along. Yes! it was a passage-way certainly, 
narrow like the one they had originally come through, as in 
places their hands could touch either side. They pushed 
on and on their slow and tortuous way, and finally seemed 
to come into a wider space again. 

“This must be the first large cave we came into,’’ said 
Kate. “You remember. Doctor, where the mermaids live?’’ 

The Doctor did not answer. A few long, free strokes given 
desperately, for he felt he had plenty of room now, and he 
peered eagerly in all directions, hoping for a ray of light. 
There was none. Not one faint glimmer of the precious 
daylight he was hungering to see. 

“Kate,” he said, “this is not the Mermaid’s Cave.’’ 

“What is it, then?’’ she said, her tones trembling with 
unvoiced fear. 

“I do not know,’’ he said slowly. 

“Doctor, Doctor!’’ cried Kate, “perhaps — perhaps — we 
can never, never get out of here?’’ 

“ Perhaps not — my darling. ’ ’ The tender, despairing love 
and pity of his voice told Kate, as nothing else could, the 
fear that was in his heart. 

“Oh!’’ she cried — just one short wild cry, and then 
was still. 


198 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“Kate,” he said. 

“Yes, Doctor,” 

“Reach me your han'd.” 

She followed the sound of his voice, and trembling obeyed 
him. He clasped the slender fingers close, now grown chill 
and cold with sudden horror, and gently stroked them. 

“My poor Kate,” he said with all the agony of a great 
love, “to think that I should have brought you here.” 

“Oh, no— no,” said Kate, trembling and shaking. “Oh 
no; it wasn’t your fault. I — I — wanted to come, you know. ” 

He stroked her poor cold hands gently. “My poor Kate, 
my poor darling.” 

She still trembled in every nerve of her body, feeling sick 
and faint and ill. He said nothing, only just chafed the 
dear hands, with love’s tender touch. After a little, the 
faintness caused by the great shock passed off, and her blood 
began to move through her veins again. 

“I feel better now,” she said faintly. 

“Yes, dear,” he answered, still stroking her hands. 

“Is — is there any chance for us, do you think?” she 
faltered. 

“I fear not — my darling. If we strive to go on we may 
only go yet farther in. Our only hope is that — ” here his 
voice broke — “that the rest may search us out.” 

“Oh, papa, my own dear papa ! ” cried Kate, overwhelmed 
at this fresh thought of misery, “how he will wonder and 
look for us — and then perhaps never find us.” And here 
she broke down completely and sobbed with utter sorrow. 
Dr. Sinclair felt a choking in his throat; he let go Kate’s 
hands and pulled at his neck for air, tearing off collar and 
tie, gasping for breath. 

“Oh, Kate, Kate!” he said hoarsely, “my own Kate — 
that I would have given my life to save — my darling, my 
love, my one pearl among women — my love — my little love ! ’ ’ 
His hands held hers fast now, great wrenching sobs shook 
all his frame. He bent his head on her hands, and wept 
aloud. 

But what is this that has come to Kate? Suddenly her 
fear has left her, and a great and deep joy has rushed into 
her soul, and given her peace. ‘ ‘ Does he love me like that ? ’ ’ 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


199 


she thinks in the darkness, and then she smiles ; and although 
he cannot see, he feels some of the sweetness of it, as she 
next says: “ Do not grieve so. At least we are together.” 

He lifts his head up and says hoarsely: ‘‘That is small 
comfort, for you, my love.” 

She hesitates half a moment, and then says: “No, it is 
all comfort. Without you I would not care to live, even 
were I safe. I would rather die with you here, than live 
on — ^outside, without you.” 

It was a brave confession, as purely and as generously 
made as was her own sweet maiden heart. 

For answer, he bowed his head again, and kissed her 
hands with loving reverence. “Oh, my love!” he cried, 
‘‘my own sweet love!” 

After a few moments she said gently: ‘‘You think it use- 
less to try again? Don’t you think that by careful moving 
we could get back into where we were, and find the right 
place perhaps?” 

‘‘No, dear, I do not,” his man’s practical sense coming 
to the front relentlessly. ‘‘Don’t you see that we have no 
surety that we could go back even now through the same way 
that we came in? Don’t you see, my darling, that we might 
only get further and further into this labyrinth? And we 
don’t want to do that, you know, as it lessens our chance in 
every way.” 

“And we can do just nothing,” said Kate slowly, “but 
just stay here? wait here — like this?” 

“Nothing else, my darling! Oh,” he cried desperately, 
“ to die like this ! like rats in a trap ! I cannot, oh, I cannot, 
stand it for you, my Kate!” 

He took up the oars and rowed fast and hard, on and 
on — until Kate at last cried; “Stop, dear. You are going 
against what is wise, what you said was best, only a few mo- 
ments ago. Don’t; wait, keep still; perhaps, by and by, 
some one will find us. Come to think it all over,” she said 
cheerily, “why, of course they will.” He stopped at her 
bidding, but the veins in his forehead felt as if they would 
burst, the muscles in his hands and arms felt strong enough 
to break through any walls and reach the air and life for his 
love. 


206 


STOLEN- AMERICA. 


Kate stretched out her hands to him in the darkness, and 
said, “Where are you. Doctor?” 

“Here, Kate,” grasping her fingers, “I am here.” 

With true womanly hypocrisy, the hypocrisy of love that 
would help its beloved, she said pleadingly, “Wont you — 
wont you keep near me for a little? I — I don’t feel so 
frightened then. ” Ah, the cunning of woman! She felt 
brave and strong enough to face anything now, even a slow 
and lingering death. She had no fear; but she saw that 
he needed comfort, and the only way she could help him 
was by quieting his anguish. She held fast to his hands, 
and slipping off her seat into the bottom of the boat in gen- 
tle, modest trust, she leaned her head against his knees. 
His trembling hands softly touched her hair, and in the 
darkness the tears were running fast down his cheeks, so 
unused to tears. 

“My Kate,” he said, “I do not remember ever to — have — 
cried — before, except when I was a boy and my mother died. 
I have suffered since as others do; but not like this! not 
like this!” 

“Don’t feel so badly, dear,” she said, with that sweet 
ring in her voice that he had heard so often before, when 
she was strongly moved over anything. “I am not despair- 
ing; I — think they will find us. Why, don’t you remem- 
ber, dear, you sent that boy back with the carriage to them ; 
and of course he told them we had his boat, and of course 
when we doft’t come back, they’ll start on a hunt for us, 
and of course they’ll find us! Why, you foolish — foolish, 
old fellow, you dear foolish old fellow!” 

The sound of her voice, the touch of her dear hands, 
broke in upon his misery in spite of himself, and the brave 
woman’s soul had secured what it battled for: a faint ray 
of hope in the heart of the man she loved. And yet, she 
had none herself. No, not any! for all the possibilities for 
and against their being found, she had gone over rapidly in 
her mind, and she had resigned herself to the inevitable. 
But the man, and he her lover, did not suspect that, and 
the timid call for help upon his strength warmed him and 
nerved him, as nothing else could have done. 

“That’s so, Kate,” he said, “we are foolish to give way 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


201 


'like this. Why^ even if we should have to stay here for 
some time, we wont die, you know. And they are quite 
likely to find us before half a day is over, quite likely.” 
The strong man felt the glow of life once more in his veins. 
Little did he dream at what loving, noble cost he had his 
strength. 

“You are warm enough, Kate?” he asked, as he tenderly 
caressed her hair. 

“Oh yes,” she said, “quite warm, dear.” 

“To think,” said the Doctor, “that we are kept here, 
just for the want of one small match! Call nothing great, 
call nothing small ! ” 

Then they were silent for a long while. 

In sore need, poor humanity goes back to utter simplicity. 
As time passed on, Kate and Dr. Sinclair became as two 
children, thinking, feeling and talking as such. He told 
her incidents and memories of his boyhood days, of how, 
when he was but six years old, he had beaten a little play- 
mate in a game of marbles, and how it was even now a 
source of pleasure to him. “You see he was bigger than 
me, Kate, much bigger, and knew how, but I made up my 
mind to beat him, and I did!” 

“Wasn’t that good!” said Kate enthusiastically. “I 
can remember,” said Kate, “of how I used to save my 
pennies until I had about ten cents, and then go to a little 
store, kept by a big old Dutchman, and look in his window 
and consider what I would have. And I used to always 
end in getting the same thing: five ‘butter-scotches,’ and 
five cents’ worth of cream crackers.” 

“Is that so?” said Dr. Sinclair seriously. “I always was 
fond of those myself.” 

They talked on and on, comparing memories and experi- 
ences with confiding simplicity. It was merely the work- 
ings of both their minds, passing in review before the other. 

No thought of criticism, no dream of judgment, of them- 
selves or of each other, came to them. They did not know 
it, but the time for that had passed. 

Kate spoke of two falsehoods that she had told to shield 
herself, upon a time long ago ; and they both gravely con- 
cluded that it was wrong, and a pity that she had told them, 


202 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


The Doctor spoke of his drinking — drinking with his eyes 
open, and how it made him feel. He spoke of Mrs. Gas- 
coigne, as a part of that same foolish feverish folly ; but he 
did not feel that he needed to apologize to Kate for it, nor 
did it seem to her that he had done any wrong, except to 
himself. They were beyond all conventionality; they were 
resting with* childlike simplicity on the bottom rock of exist- 
ence ; absolute revelation of self to self ! And so the hours 
wore on. At times they shifted their positions in the boat, 
the Doctor striving to ease Kate as he could. 

And still the hours passed on. In time, they grew faint 
for want of food, and their voices were lower and not so 
strong. 

Then their throats became hot and dry, and the ripple of 
the water in the darkness about them was heard as a tanta- 
lizing fountain they could not touch. It was salt, and they 
dared not drink it. And still the long hours dragged slowly 
on, — on and on. They talked less often now; the Doctor’s 
brain was becoming numbed, and Kate’s frail body was 
weakening under the strain of fasting and exposure. 

They sat with their arms about each other, frail anchors 
each, to the one so dear. 

And still all was darkness about them, and still the dreary 
hours dragged on. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Weston, Allison, and Emily reached 
the hotel, their first question of acquaintances on the piazza 
was : “ Have Kate and Dr. Sinclair returned ? ” 

“ No,” they replied. “We haven’t seen them.” 

Allison said to the clerk in the office : “ I say, you’re not 
fooling now, are you .? They haven’t passed by here ? ” 

“ Not that I know of,” replied the young man politely. 
“ When they come in, shall I tell them you wish to see 
them ? ” 

“ If you will be so kind,” smiled Mrs. Weston sweetly. 
“We will be very much obliged to you.” 

“ Not at all, not at all,” stammered the young fellow, over- 
gome by her smile ^nd her manner, 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


203 


“ I’ll sit outside, mother, till they come.” said Mr. Wes- 
ton. “ You had better go up to your room and rest now, 
hadn’t you ?” 

“ Well, yes, John, I think it would be advisable, as I am 
indeed quite fatigued.” She took her elegant light wrap 
from Mr. Weston, as if it were a heavy burden, and lan- 
guidly proceeded along the corridor, taking care, however, 
that the garment should hang gracefully over her arm, with 
the handsomest side out. Emily also went upstairs, leaving 
Allison and Mr, Weston seated on the piazza. 

As time went on and they did not come, Mr. Weston grew 
rather restless, not alarmed in any way, — only he was so 
punctual himself in small matters, that any delay out of the 
ordinary run of events annoyed him. “ I can’t see what’s 
keeping them,” he said, taking out his watch every five min- 
utes ; “ here it is ’way after lunch time, and not a sign of 
them yet.” 

“ Maybe they’ve gone somewhere else to lunch,” said 
Allison; Mike as not, they’ve hired a carriage somewhere 
and driven over to St. George’s. It would be just like Kate 
to do a thing like that.” 

“ Do you think so ?” answered Mr. Weston. “It hardly 
seems like her to me, for she’d think that her mother and I 
might be worried, you see.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” said Allison ; “ if it was with any- 
body else but the Doctor, I don’t suppose she would, but 
she knows that you know she’d be all right with him. Don’t 
bother your head any more about them, Mr. Weston, but 
just come on in and get your lunch. They’ll probably turn 
up about supper-time with their arms full of shells and stuff, 
and wonder why you expected them before.” 

“Guess you’re right, Fred; anyway, ‘a watched pot 
never boils,’ they say. Come on, I am hungry, aren’t you ? 
Mrs. Weston’s gone in, hasn’t she ? Oh, yes,” as they reached 
the dining-room, “ there she is. I see her.” 

• After luncheon, Mr Weston again took up his position on 
the piazza with magazines and newspapers to pass away the 
time. Allison’s suggestion had put his mind at rest, and he 
read on and on, not noticing how the moments went by, until 
he heard Mrs. Weston’s voice, complainingly ; 


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STOLEN AMERICA. 


“I can’t see what keeps Kate so late, John. Here it is 
six o’clock, and she won’t be dressed in time for dinner. 
It’s very inconsiderate of Dr. Sinclair to keep the child out 
gathering shells, till this hour of the day, I think.” 

“ Goodness me ! ” exclaimed Mr. Weston, jumping to his 
feet ; “ haven’t they got back yet I was so busy reading 
that I forgot all about them.” 

“ Now, that’s just like you, John, when you know too that 
there’s to be a concert at the hotel here to-night, and that 
everybody will be dressed. And think of Kate coming in 
with that old dress on, that she’s been tramping about in all 
day ! Really, it’s too thoughtless of her.” And the fair 
mother looked anything but fair, as she stood there, with an 
irritated frown upon her face. 

“ Pshaw, mother, don’t fret about clothes. She’ll be 
dressed in time. I’ll go down the road a piece and see if I 
can see anything of them.” Mr. Weston tumbled his 
magazines and papers into his chair, and walked off briskly. 
At the first turn of the road he met Colonel Martin driving 
in a buggy. 

Going for a stroll, Mr. Weston ?” he asked pleasantly. 

“ Hum — not exactly ; I’m going to look for my daughter 
Kate, and Dr. Sinclair. They haven’t returned yet, you see, 
and we can’t think what’s keeping them.” 

“ Indeed !” exclaimed the Colonel, after Mr. Weston had 
explained the situation to him, “ that’s very singular ! You 
don’t think that anything could have happened to them, do 
you, Mr. Weston ? ” 

“ Oh, no, certainly not,” said Mr. Weston, biting his lips 
a little nervously, “ but the mother, you know, is a little 
anxious.” 

“ Quite so — quite so,” nodded the Colonel sympathetic- 
ally, “natural, you know, Mr. Weston, quite natural. Now, 
I’ve got nothing to do, suppose you jump in, and I’ll take 
you down the road a bit ; and we’ll see if we can’t find 
them, hey ? ” 

“ Thank you,” answered Mr. Weston, looking slightly 
relieved, “ that would be first rate.” 

He got in the buggy, the Colonel turned his horse about, 
they trotted down Front Street, 


STOLEN AMERICA. 205 

It’s SO unlike Kate,” said the father musingly — “to stay 
out like this, for she is always so thoughtful of others.” 

“ That she is ! ” agreed the Colonel warmly. “ I never, 
sir, I never sir, met a young lady more so ! ” In the heat 
of his appreciation, the good Colonel’s face got pink, and 
his true old heart beat very fast. 

“ And then. Dr. Sinclair, too,” went on Mr. Weston 
thoughtfully,' “ is a man of sense. It isn’t like him, to keep 
Kate out this late, and not consider but what we would be 
anxious. I can’t understand it.” 

“ It’s possible, my dear sir,” said the Colonel gravely, 
“that they may have met with some accident in returning 
home. Perhaps an axle broke, horse got balky, or some- 
thing of that kind. But now don’t be alarmed, Mr. Weston, 
accidents are not often serious, although they are fre- 
quently very trying. Don’t worry, my dear sir ; don’t 
worry.” 

The Colonel said this, but all the time he kept urging 
his horse on faster and faster in nervous fear himself ; 
while Mr. Weston looked eagerly and sharply to the right 
and left of each road, as they passed rapidly along. It was 
still daylight, and everything could be plainly seen. 

“ Would you mind. Colonel,” said Mr. Weston, “ driving 
as far as to Walsingham Cave ? It was up that way we left 
them, you know.” 

“ Certainly not, certainly not,” assented the Colonel, his 
white mustache bristling determinedly. “ Quite a pleasure, 
I assure you, — pleasure, I assure you.’' 

They drove on and on, and finally reached the stopping- 
ground of the morning, Marks of horses’ feet and carriage- 
wheels could be plainly seen, but no sign of human life. 
The Colonel tied his horse to a tree, and ‘they both jumped 
out, and followed the single track in the direction that Kate 
and Dr. Sinclair had taken. They soon reached the spot 
where the marks ended and the return wheel-marks were 
visible. 

“No use following that,” said Mr. Weston, “that goes 
right back to where we came from ; let’s keep along the 
shore and see if we can see any marks of footsteps.” 

“No use, Mr. Weston,” said the Colonel, “ it’s high-tide 


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now, see ! and the beach is all covered up. If they went up 
that way, their track is all gone.” 

“ Oh ! ” sighed Mr. Weston shortly. 

“ Now don’t worry, my dear sir,” said the Colonel quickly, 
“ don’t worry. Perhaps they have gone in a sailboat and 
have got becalmed somewhere.” 

“Why, that’s so,’’ exclaimed Mr. Weston, brightening up 
a little, “that’s probably just what they have done. Wonder 
we didn’t think of that before. Isay! Hi there!’’ calling 
out to two men in a sail-boat some distance away, “come 
here, will you?’’ 

The two men tacked about and came over to them. 

“Haven't seen a boat becalmed anywhere’s about here, 
have you, my boys? We’re looking for a lady and gentle- 
man that we think went in one, you know.’’ 

“They’d have to heave anchor, so, if they wanted to stay 
still in this blow,” answered one of the men, “an’ it’s been 
a-blowin’ like this most on the day, sir. Hain’t seen any 
crafts a-standing still at all.” 

“And you haven’t seen any lady or gentleman,” faltered 
Mr. Weston, “ ’round here anywhere, to-day?’’ 

“Gentleman, professional man,” said the Colonel, “tall, 
(ferk, and wears glasses. Lady, young, sweet, lovely, every- 
thing like that, you know,’’ finished the Colonel, waving 
his hand descriptively. 

“No, sir,’’ muttered the two men, staring, while one of 
them added: “No, sir; no one o’ that style as has been 
round these parts. An’ we would ’a’ seen ’em if they had, 
’cause Tom and I has been up and down from Blue Hole, 
at the Causeway, down to Stokes’ Bay, most all day, a-fish- 
ing, hasn’t we, Tom?’’ 

“Well, my man,’’ coughed Mr. Weston hoarsely, “if you 
do see them, tell them to come back to the Princess Hotel 
soon as they can, will you?’’ 

“Certain,’’ answered the man kindly; “we may come 
across them, and if we does we’ll remember, sir.’’ 

Then Mr. Weston and the Colonel turned about and slowly 
walked back to where they had tied their horse. They 
looked in every direction about, them going here, there, and 
everywhere, shouting and calling: “Kate! Kate! Oh, Sin- 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


207 


clair! Sinclair! Doctor! Hello! Where are you?” But only 
the stillness of the evening was their answer. They huntea 
in all directions until it grew so dark they could see no 
longer, and then, with anxious hearts, re-entered the buggy 
and drove back toward home. 

' ‘Maybe they’ll be at the hotel by the time we get there,” 
said the Colonel, striving to cheer Mr. Weston up; “don’t 
get downhearted, sir, for of course they can’t be much 
longer now, and really, you know, there isn’t anything that 
could happen them here on the Island. We haven’t any 
beasts of prey, you know, nor anything that could hurt them. 
So don’t get away down now, Mr. Weston, don’t.” 

‘‘That’s so,” breathed Mr. Weston with a long sigh, “no 
doubt I am borrowing trouble, but some way I can’t help 
feeling anxious. Kate is my only child, you know, and she 
is a good girl.” 

“Good!” said the Colonel, with a fierce emphasis, “that 
doesn’t express it, sir; she’s — she’s almost an angel. I 
never saw any one to compare to her except my dearly 
beloved wife, sir, that’s now a saint above. And do you 
know, Mr. Weston, in some ways she’s like her?” The 
solemn way in which this was said, was the most delicate 
flattery that ever a kind old heart was guilty of. Mr. Wes- 
ton smiled rather grimly in the dusk, as they drove along, 
for he had seen a portrait of the lamented Mrs. Colonel, 
and could not trace in Kate’s sensitive, delicate face any 
resemblance to the broad, commonplace, rosy matron of 
mature years and hearty dinners. 

However, he answered civilly, “Is that so, Colonel?” 
and then once more relapsed into silence. 

The distance -seemed interminable as they drove along, 
and yet they reached the hotel very quickly. 

There was quite a group on the piazza as they drove up 
to the steps. “Have they come?” said Mr. Weston hoarsely. 

“Have they come?” repeated Mrs. Weston irritably, 
“no, they haven’t come, and I call it most careless and 
inconsiderate to stay — ” 

“Mother,” said Mr. Weston sharply, ‘‘I am afraid some- 
thing terrible has happened to them.” 

‘‘Qh, John! don’t say that! What is it ! Don’t keep 


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me in suspense! let me know tke worst at once!” she sank 
gracefully into a near-by chair, and was immediately sur- 
rounded by half a dozen people. She looked the poetical 
picture of a grief-stricken mother, but she didn’t look like a 
mother whose heart was full of loving anguish. Mr. Wes- 
ton, in the midst of his own terrible heartache, was struck 
with her weak selfishness as perhaps he had never realized 
it before in all his life. Slowly but surely over his face 
crept an intense contempt that nothing could hide. 

“There is nothing to know,” he said shortly; “I would to 
God there was!” and turning away he walked into the 
office, leaving the picturesque mother still the center of 
kindly attentions. 

By this time the news of the non-appearance of Kate and 
Dr. Sinclair had spread throughout the hotel, and many 
were the comments thereupon. Some were uncharitable of 
course, some were kindly; some were full of helpful sug- 
gestions, some were as rasping as the grating of a file. 

We are never so weak as when we are undermined by fear 
for our loved ones, and now in this strain of a terrible 
anxiety, Mr. Weston’s usual clear head and steady nerves 
seemed to have deserted him. He did not know what to 
do. He listened to any and to all suggestions, with eager- 
ness, ready to carry out any idea, wise or foolish, that was 
mentioned. Wild plans were gotten up by sympathetic peo- 
ple. Some looked all through the hotel to see if they had 
hidden away for fun. Others took long walks and came back 
breathless to report that they hadn’t found them yet I 
Others went out in row-boats and saihboats in the clear 
moonlight, looking at shores and islands far away from the 
spot where they had been last seen, with a crazy notion 
that perhaps they might have come home that way. The 
whole village of Hamilton was searched. All idea of the 
concert which was to have been held that evening was aban- 
doned in favor of the new excitement. But all was use- 
less : not a trace of the missing ones was found. Some 
time after midnight, when the hotel again was quiet, most 
of the guests having retired to their rooms, Mr. Weston 
restlessly paced up and down the long main corridor, unable 
to rest or sleep. The night clerk in the office sympathetically 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


209 


exchanged a word or two with him at times, but what could 
he say ? What was to be said to a man whose only daughter, 
and she the pride of his heart, had mysteriously disappeared ? 

Among other restless watchers that night was Mrs. Gas- 
coigne and Count Saviotti. They also were wide awake 
and up and dressed. In the half-light of a small hallway 
in a wing of the hotel, they were exchanging words in eager 
and excited controversy. 

“ Bah, Louise ! ” said the Count in a hissing whisper, 
“ dey hav gone off togethair ! ne voyez-vous pas 9a ? " 

“ No — no,” answered Mrs. Gascoigne, “that is not it, that 
is not it ! They are lost, hurt, or something ! Dr. Sinclair 
would never — would never — ” 

“Veil, ma Louise! Eees it you, who talk like dis ! ” 
looking at her with sneering pity. “ I nevair would have 
tought dat you — would be, such a fool ? Doctair Sinclair ! 
Pah ! Yot ees he ? Un savant — un scolair ? Oui, mais he 
ees also un homme ! And eef you gif un homme I’oppor- 
tunite avec une charmante jeune fille — ” 

“Leon Duquette!” cried Mrs. Gascoigne, “if you say 
one word more, I will sign my name in the register of this 
hotel as your wife!” The stern, the fierce indignation, the 
terrible resolution of the woman, spoke too plainly for the 
Count to dare to disregard it. 

He stared at her, laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and 
said: “Bien! So be it; ma Louise I vill not uttair von 
word against your Doctor Sinclair. You tink dat dey haf 
not gone off togethair, hey?” 

“I know it,” said Mrs. Gascoigne nervously, wringing 
her hands. “Whatever detains them, it is an accident or 
something worse.” 

“Ah yes, mais oui! Un accident! They vill happen 
in de best-regulated families — n’est ce pas? And of course 
dis time, pairhaps it ees de fault of Mademoiselle Weston? 
Vot tink you, ma Louise?” 

“No,” she thundered (for once true to the womanly in- 
stincts within her). “No! a hundred times no! Miss Wes- 
ton is a pure, good girl, above any action low enough to 
find entrance into your mind, for one moment. Listen, 
Leon Duquette! You know what I think of Dr. Sinclair. 


210 


STOLE AT AMERICA. 


Well, ril say this for Kate Weston; she is more than good 
enough to be his wife. But I hate her! Oh yes, I hate 
her!” And this many-sided, beautiful wreck of woman- 
hood clinched her teeth together, and looked, in spite of 
her beauty, quite able to commit any crime that would 
satisfy her vengeance. 

‘‘Ah! Now, ma Louise, you aire yourself again ! Allez 
a votre chambre ; go to sleep — it ees late. I vill smoke un 
cigare, I vill you see demain le matin. Dormez bien, ma 
Louise. Bon soir!” 

The Count turned on his heel and went down the hall- 
way, and left her standing there alone. 

She watched him out of sight, and then, gritting her 
teeth and wringing her hands, found her way back to her 
room. 

Mr. Weston, downstairs, had started back on his return 
tramp of the long corridor, when he felt a tap on his shoul- 
der, and heard Count Saviotti say: 

‘‘Ah! Monsieur Weston! Yoil aire not asleep ethair?” 

‘‘No,” said Mr. Weston shortly turning and looking at 
him, ‘‘of course not.” 

He shook the hand from off his shoulder as if it had been 
poison, and went on his nervous, lone, solitary tramp, as if 
he had not been interrupted. He passed several times up 
and down the same old track for over ten minutes, and then 
as he turned at the office entrance once again. Count Saviotti 
said : 

‘‘Monsieur Weston; I have une idee.” 

‘‘What is it?” said Mr. Weston, dully facing the French- 
man, half dead with fatigue and anguish. 

‘‘May I see you alone. Monsieur Weston?” 

‘‘Alone?” questioned Mr. Weston mechanically, “there’s 
no one here.” 

“Ah! Dat ees so. I forget dat Monsieur le Commis 
ees in your confidence,” bowing to the night-clerk politely. 

“What is it?” said Mr. Weston, like a man talking in his 
sleep. 

“I hope you vill take in de spirit in vich I it zay to you. 
Monsieur, mais,” shrugging his shoulders, “eef it vas a 
daughter of mine, who hav disappear comme 9a, I would 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


21 I 


zay! Bless you, mes enfants, be happy! Do you not tlnk, 
Monsieur Weston, dat dey haf gone off to be maries?” 

“Married,? No, of course not,” said Mr. Weston irrita- 
bly; “the very idea’s absurd.” 

“Ah! So!” said the Count, pursing up his thin lips and 
glinting his beady eyes; “dat ees so, Monsieur Weston! 
Dey could not here marry like in Amerique — vidout de 
notice regulaire. I forgot dat. Den you tink Monsieur dat 
Mees Kate ees only guilty of une petite indiscretion?” 

“Guilty!” said Mr. Weston, turning a white face toward 
the smiling, snakey Frenchman — “Guilty? what do you 
mean?” 

“Oh mais. Monsieur, mon cher Monsieur,” went on the 
Count, fatuously blind to the father’s feelings, “not guilty. 
Dat ees de wrong word pairhaps en anglais, but you and I 
know. Monsieur, dat for une jeune fille to be absent until 
now, avec un Monsieur — hey! — nous savons.” 

“I do not quite understand,” said Mr. Weston, stopping 
his pacing and looking at the speaker, “what is it you say?” 
To any one but a man without soul or heart, the father’s 
pitiful face at that moment would have been sufficient warn- 
ing, but the Count was blind and dumb. Blind to all save 
his own interest, dumb to all save his own miserable inter- 
pretations. 

“Mais, Monsieur!” he shrugged, “vous savez. Jesais!” 

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Weston in downright 
American-English, standing with his hands in his pockets. 

“Mean? Que voulez-vous? I mean the one thing that 
is alone poss-see-ble, Monsieur!” 

“And that is — ” said Mr. Weston simply. 

“Your daughtair. Mademoiselle Weston, has — found, 
Monsieur — dat — she — ees — only — human — like tout le 
monde. Monsieur.” 

Still, the honest, pure-hearted, manly American did not 
comprehend the vile suspicion. 

“Only human. Count? Of course; of course. What else 
should she be? What are you driving at?” 

Count Saviotti smoothed his necktie, twirled the ends of 
his waxed mustache, and then said complacently: 

“Exactement, Monsieur. Dat ees vot I say. She ees 


212 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


but human. She lof Doctor Sinclair, she pairmit to him 
the freedom of love — she — ” 

“You scoundrel!” cried Mr. Weston, and with one quick, 
terrible blow he felled him to the floor. The Count lay 
there, insensible. 

The night clerk, a calm, quiet young man, given to at- 
tending to his own business, and no one else’s, did not look 
up until he heard the heavy thud of the Count’s fall. 

‘>‘Better see to that skunk there,” said Mr. Weston, turn- 
ing on his heel. 

The clferk came out from behind his office, and said: 
“I’m afraid he’s dead, sir.” 

“I hope he is,” said Mr. Weston, eyeing the Count’s 
waxen form stretched out before him. ‘ Tt would be a good 
job, don’t you think?” 

“Nonsense!” said a clear boyish treble, breaking in upon 
the scene; “he isn’t dead by a long shot.” stooping down 
and feeling him. “Come, Mr. Weston,” continued Alli- 
son, taking him affectionately by the arm, “Come with me. 
Why are you up so late? I thought it was only us young- 
sters that acted like this. Come away. I’ll attend to that 
devil there, don’t you worry yourself. Come, Mr. Weston.’ ’ 
Half-coaxing, half-leading the grief-stricken father along, 
he gradually piloted him down the hallway, up the stairs, 
and into his own bed-room. “There, now you lie down 
and take a nap, and I’ll let you know if there is any news, 
of course.” 

Mr. Weston, exhausted with his anxiety and grief, was 
fast approaching that state when one does as he is bid like 
a person in a mesmeric trance. He nodded to Allison, and 
threw himself on the bed, although his eyes remained wide 
open. 

Fred went downstairs again, three steps at a time, and 
when he reached the end of the main hallway, he found the 
Count still stretched out like a dead -man, upon the office 
floor. 

“Well, you’re on ice, ain’t you?” he said to the calm 
clerk, who was pensively gazing at Saviotti. 

“Ice — ice?” stammered that young man, puzzled. ‘‘I 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


213 


beg pardon, but I can’t quite catch your idea, don’t you 
know?” 

‘‘Well, you’re the coolest piece I’ve struck for many a 
day!” ejaculated Allison, eyeing him admiringly. ‘‘To 
stand there and not do anything all this time! Ice? On 
ice! That don’t express you! Just catch hold here, will 
you, and help me lift this thing into that room there?” 

‘‘Oh, certainly,” rejoined the young man politely. ‘‘I 
did not quite understand your expression, sir. Is there 
anything I can procure for you, sir?” 

“Yes, some water and some brandy. Those are good 
when a man faints, aint they?” 

“I believe so, sir,” answered the night-clerk gently, “I 
believe so.” 

Between them they carried Count Saviotti into a small 
room near by and laid him on a lounge. He was only 
stunned, and came to before the water and brandy was 
brought. When he opened his eyes and saw Allison bend- 
ing over him, he scowled and said faintly : 

‘‘Garmon.” 

‘‘Don’t you gargon me, you blackleg you,” said Allison 
fiercely. He glared feebly at Fred, and put his hand to his 
head and groaned. 

‘‘Hurt you, does it?” said Fred with mock pity; ‘‘too 
bad, too bad! Here, drink this,” holding some brandy to 
his lips; ‘ ‘that’ll help you,” 

The Count mechanically swallowed a mouthful or two, 
still feeling weak and dazed. Then he lay there, exhausted. 
The night-clerk calmly went back to his office and his duties, 
while Allison kept watch at the Count’s side. 

After a few moments, Allison gave him some more brandy 
and water. At last the strong liquor did its work, and the 
weak heart began to beat faster again, and the slow blood 
to move more naturally through his veins. 

‘‘Merci, Monsieur Allison,” he said, ‘‘I villget up now.” 

‘‘No, you don’t!” said Fred, coolly toying with a Colt’s 
revolver that he had taken from his pocket. ‘‘Not just yet! 
Not until you swear to me two things. One is that you 
will tell no one that Mr. Weston knocked you down ; and 
the other, you frog-eater! is that you swear to me you will 


214 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


not utter to another soul one word against Miss Kate Wes- 
ton! Swear! Swear!” cried Allison, excitedly, pointing 
the cold muzzle against his forehead. “Swear!” 

“I svear! I svear!” said the Count, trembling with cold 
fear. “On my honair as un gentilhomme.” 

“Your honor! But I guess you’ll keep your word. Bet- 
ter, I tell you! for if you don’t. I’ll settle with you, if I 
swing for it! Good Lord!” he said, as the Count now 
tremblingly sat up, “what a pity it is that a cur like you 
can’t be shot, anyhow! Now mind what I say, Saviotti! 
One word like you said to-night, and I’ll shoot you as I 
would a dog! ” 

Allison turned and walked out, passing the quiet clerk in 
the office with a good-night nod, and from there on up to 
his own room. But not to sleep ! His feeling for Kate was 
that of genuine adoration and affection; a sort of worship- 
ful love — with no hope in it. She was his ideal of noble 
womanhood, and he was ready to do and die for her, at any 
time. And now her prolonged absence weighed him down 
with the heaviest heartache his light spirit had ever known. 
He lay awake the remainder of the night, devising new plans 
for her aid, filled with many schemes for her recovery. 
Count Saviotti also, in the course of time, went along the 
long hallway and upstairs to his bed-room. He too, re- 
mained awake the most of the night, and he too, thought 
and planned. But across all his thoughts and in the midst 
of all his plans, the young face of Allison, gleaming with 
fierce light, came in ever as a menace to his schemes. 
Finally, with a muttered curse, toward morning he sank 
into an exhausted sleep. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

By nine o’clock the next morning Mr. Weston and Alli- 
son had started out upon their hunt again for Kate and Dr. 
Sinclair. By this time word had been sent all over the 
Island of Bermuda that they were missing ; and all sorts 
and classes of mankind had joined in the search. Rich and 
poor, official and non-official, wise and foolish, all were 


STOLJEN- AMERICA. 


215 

interested in the case. Mrs. Weston confined her exertions 
exclusively to alleviating her own personal feelings. She 
kept to her room, reclining in a most becoming wrapper, 
surrounded by sympathetic acquaintances, who alternated 
bathing her head with cologne, wiping away her tears, with 
shutting in the blinds softly, and tempting her grief-stricken 
soul with the very tenderest part of a broiled bird, and 
freshly made salads. 

“ Poor thing ! ” they whispered, “ how terrible it is for 
her ! We must keep up her appetite, we must indeed, or 
what will become of her ? ” 

Mr. Weston and Allison had secured the services of a 
friend in the village, a Mr. Brown, who was well acquainted 
with the different parts of Bermuda, and with hhn as a 
guide, they drove, walked, sailed, and investigated every 
possible place whereto wandering footsteps could by chance 
have strayed. Naturally, they went toward the eastern por- 
tion of the main island, thinking that they must be some- 
where in that direction. They drove all along by Castle 
Harbor, past the Causeway, and then around by the northern 
extremity to Bailey’s Bay and Crawl Point. Then back 
again, in despairing unrest, to Stokes’ Bay, skirting in and 
out among Cooper’s Island, King’s Castle, and the rocks at 
Gurnet’s Head. Then over to St. George’s to that quaint 
old town, so quiet and sleepy and picturesque. They put 
up there over-night at the Globe Hotel, too exhausted to go 
further. Then after a night of tossing misery, in spite of 
their comfortable surroundings, they started out again on 
their eager search. Any and everybody was asked concern- 
ing tidings of the missing ones. All thought of their own 
dignity and of what might be expected of them was gone. 
The only idea they had, was the desperate one of finding 
that which was lost, that which was lost ! St. George’s 
was thoroughly hunted over. Fort Albert and Fort Victoria, 
St. Catherine’s Point, and the batteries even being looked 
at. All small islands near by were inspected, for, as Mr. 
Weston said, ‘‘ You see they may have been in a boat, 
landed at some small point like that, the boat drifted away 
by an accident, and there they are ! ” 

Every corner and by-way was searched, even a boat 


2i6 


STOlEAT AMERICA, 


going out as far as to “Tobacco Rock.” But all in vain, 
not a trace of Dr. Sinclair or Kate was to be found. Ex- 
hausted and weary they turned toward home again, reach- 
ing the Princess Hotel after ten o’clock. And this was 
the second night. 

The next morning again they started out, Allison and Mr, 
Weston, and this one good friend, who knew the Island and 
would not give up hope. This time they drove toward the 
southern shore, passing through Paget’s, Warnick, and 
along to Gibb’s Hill Lighthouse. Then from there 
through South-Hampton and on to Somerset and from there 
up to Ireland Island and the Forts. Just here, Mr. Weston 
gave out. He lay back in the carriage white and dazed, a 
pitiful picture of patient waiting. ■ 

“ Do you see them ? ” he whispered faintly, through^ his 
parched lips. 

“ No, not yet, Mr. Weston,” answered Allison tenderly. 
Then he added with a manly disregard to his own exhausted 
and tired out condition, “ I say, Mr. Brown, you go back 
to the hotel with Mr. Weston and I’ll look over Chamber- 
lain Bay and Daniel’s Island by myself. Don’t wait another 
minute. Go right back. I’ll come when I can. And I say. 
Brown, don’t leave him alone, until I get back will you i 
It’s kinder tough on the Governor, you know.” 

Brown was a Bermudian, an Englishman, and a man. 
He looked at the lad’s white, boyish, pain-drawn face, so 
full of pluck and unselfish devotion, and he reached out a 
hand that would have filled a No. 8 glove, and grasping 
Fred’s thin nervous one in his, said emphatically : 

“ I’ll stay with him — if it takes a leg, so I will ! ” 

“ Thank you,” said Fred simply, and neither seemed to 
notice that the expression was a little more extreme than 
any probability might call for. 

Allison, left alone, got over the ground with characteristic 
American rapidity. He inspected every possible point upon 
the Northwestern shore, and then seated at last in a con- 
veyance he had hired after leaving the boat at Spanish 
Point, he sank down into the seat of the carriage, with 
weary hopelessness. It did indeed seem as if Kate and Dr. 
Sinclair were irrevocably lost. There are so few steamers 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


217 


coming and going out and in to Bermuda, that the pas- 
senger-lists on them are easily ascertained. Among the 
numbered of those, of course, were not found the names of 
the missing ones. The only thought then remaining was 
the terrible one, that they had ventured out to sea in a small 
craft, and had been capsized and drowned. 

Allison was wearily lying back in his hack, when a voice 
from the roadway called out, “ Hi dere ! Mister Allison ! If 
you please ! ” and there was David, the calabash cutter, 
bowing respectfully, with anxious and eager face. 

“ Hi dere. Mister Allison ! Mister Allison ! ” 

'• Yes,” said Fred wearily. “ Oh, it’s you, David. Well, 
what is it ? ” 

“ Fse a wanting to speak to you jess a minute. Mister 
Allison.” 

Fred stopped the driver, and to the surprise of both he 
said carelessly, “Just get in here, will you? Go on, driver, 
Fm dead tired, too tired to stop. Drive on lively, John. 
Well, what is it, David ? ” 

“ Does yer know dis yere ? ” said David, as he tremblingly 
held out a lady’s dainty pocket-handkerchief. 

“ That ? ” said Allison wearily, “what about it>? ” 

“ It has markin’s in one corner, sah, and I was hopin’, sah, 
dat it might be Miss Kate’s,” said the negro eagerly. 

With one quick clutch, Allison caught it from his hands. 

“ K. W.” he cried excitedly, “ K. W. ! why, of course it’s 
hers. Where did you get it? Quick, man — quick ! Oh, you 
black monkey — ’Where did you get it ? ” 

“ Please, sah, — please, sah,” gasped David, as Fred 
mercilessly and unconsciously shook him by the shoulders, 
“ please, sah, ’low me to get my breff, sah ! Dere — sah ! 
Tank you, sah ! I got it right near Walsingham Bay, sah, 
on a little bush, sah ; Oh, Mister Allison ! Please let me 
go for Fred in his eager excitement had almost shaken 
the poor darkey to pieces. 

“ Walsingham Bay ! ” he cried ; “quick, driver — quick ! ” 

“ I beg your pardon, sah ; but I’se done looked all round 
dar — in every place,” said David respectfully, “and dar’s no 
signs of ’em.” 

“I tell you, David I ” cried Fred enthusiastically, “they 


2i8 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


must have been near there ! Don’t let us say anything to 
anybody, and let us just look over there again — hey ? ” 

“ Sartin, sah ; sartin, sah,” agreed the negro eagerly ; 
“ ’Twon’t do no harm, sah, ef it isn’t of any account.” 

“ Drive to the Hotel, first, John,” said Allison. “ I’ll 
have to get something,” for this harem-scarem, hair-brained 
careless boy had the strange foresight to think of certain 
practical necessaries that he would need if they went scour- 
ing the coasts of Walsingham Bay. 

The driver John, like every one else upon the Island, was 
full of the loss of Kate and Dr. Sinclair, so he urged on his 
horses with reckless speed, foaming their brown coats with 
white flakes, regardless of old-time orders as to pace and to 
treatment. 

“ Go ahead, sir, I’ll wait ’till you come back,” he said as 
Allison and David jumped out. Fred nodded and hurried 
into the hotel. He procured a lantern, oil and matches, 
and as a last extreme of thoughtfulness, a pint of brandy. 
He was just hurrying along the main corridor, that barren 
tramping ground, the site of many a tragic scene, when 
Emily, stepping out from one of the side-rooms, stopped 
him. 

‘‘ What is it, Mr. Allison ? ” she asked — “ is there any 
hope ?” 

“Oh, Emily ! ” said Allison, forgetting in his excitement 
the respectful Miss ; “ David has found her handkerchief — 
see ! and we are going to look again on Walsingham Bay. 
Don’t stop me — I’m in a hurry, but don’t tell any one, for — 
maybe — maybe, you know, it will end in nothing.” 

“ No, I will not,” answered Emily seriously, “ of course I 
wont mention it, but what have you there ?” 

“ Lights, you know, and brandy ; they may need it,” said 
Allison hurriedly ; “ oh, don’t stop me ! ” 

“ Now see here, Mr. Allison,” said Emily slowly, “ don’t 
go too quickly, that will not be wise. You haven’t had any 
lunch, have you ? No ? I thought not. You go in and get 
your lunch, and I will pack a small basket of things that 
you might need in case you do find them, and they are in 
distress,” she faltered. “ Go in now,” she said decidedly, 
tapping a pretty slippered foot imperatively, and looking as 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


219 


firm as her pink and white dimples would let her, — “go in, 
and when you have finished, come out here and Til have 
the hamper all ready for you.” Something in the kindly 
flash of the girl’s blue eyes settled the matter for Allison. 
He went into the dining-room very meekly, and then found 
that, in spite of his anxiety, a certain healthy appetite had 
been lying in ambush only waiting to be fed. He ate a 
hearty meal, and felt the better for it. Upon coming out 
again he discovered Emily sitting demurely upon a wooden 
settee, leaning her dimpled elbow upon a large wicker 
basket. 

“ Here it is,” she said. “ You may not need it. Of course 
you will not — if — if — when you find them — they are not 
hungry, but in case, in case, you understand, Mr. Allison ! 
There is milk in there and water — ” 

“ Milk and water,” exclaimed Allison ; “ What a dose ! ” 

“ Now, Mr. Allison,” said Emily, “ how absurd you are ! 
See — here is a bottle of milk, and this is full of water ; and 
there are sandwiches, and here is the brandy that you had — 
see ? ” 

“ Yes, Emily,” said Allison soberly. “I see ; thank you, 
thank you. Suppose — suppose we should find them ! ” 

“ Oh ! ” cried out the quiet, undemonstrative English girl, 
“ if you only could ! ” Her blue eyes flashed and brimmed 
over with tears, and unconsciously she let Allison grasp her 
hands. 

“ If I do find them, what will you give me ? ” asked auda- 
cious Fred ; “ a kiss ? ” 

“ A kiss ? Why, Mr. Allison,” said Emily, half laughing, 
half-crying, “ if you bring Kate back to us. I’ll give you a 
good baker’s dozen.” 

“That’s all right,” answered Fred triumphantly. “I’ll 
remember that. Miss Emily. Good-by ! I’m off now. Oh, 
yes, thank you ; I was forgetting my hat. Now don’t say 
anything to Mr. Weston, or anybody else, you know, for this 
may all end in smoke — same as everything else, but maybe 
not ! ma3i^be not ! ” 

“ Good-by,” said gentle Emily, shaking his hands earn- 
estly. “ I shall watch and pray until I see you you again,” 


220 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Fred once more started out again, in the carriage, David 
with him, reinforced by the basket Emily’s thoughtfulness 
had provided. 

“ It don’t seem quite right, sah, for me to be settin’ in 
hyar, sah,” said David deprecatingly, as they drove rapidly 
along. 

“ Nonsense, David,” answered Fred ; “ we’ve no time to 
lose, nor to waste on foolishness. Drive lively, John ! ” 
to the driver. “ Quick as you can to Walsingham Bay ! ” 

When they reached the regular “ Walsingham Cave,” as 
shown to visitors, Allison paid the driver generously and 
dismissed him ; then he and David hurried along to the 
eastern coast, eager and anxious. 

“ Hyar ! Mister Allison, right hyar I found de handker- 
chief, right on dis bush hyar ! ” 

Fred stopped and looked at the short underbrush of cac- 
tus growth, and, in spite of its prickly bristles, touched it 
as if it was something sacred. 

“ Now, Mister Allison,” said David respectfully, “ I tink 
dat if we gets a boat and hunts in here maybe we may find 
them. You see, sah, de Doctor and Miss Kate is mighty 
fond of curious things, sah — mighty fond. Why, I remem- 
bers,” said David, lovingly, “ of Miss Kate’s a-talkin’ to me 
one mornin’ over an hour ’bout de ordinary stone dat we 
gets out o’ de quarries. Jess tink o’ dat. Mister Allison ! 
For a lady like her to talk ob tings like dat and wants to 
know ’bout dem. And Dr. Sinclair, he’s allers a-pickin’ up 
stones and those sort of trash. And mebbe, — mebbe. Mis- 
ter Allison, dey might a-gone scrummigen in some o’ dese 
yere holes, dese sea-holes what do you tink, sah ? ” 

“ I think that is just what they have done, David,” said 
Allison, suddenly filled with a feverish certainty that here 
lay hid the terrible mystery of their disappearance. “ I feel 
sure of it ! ” 

“ Oh, Mister Allison ! Does you tink so? ” 

“ Come,” said Fred, his boyish figure all alert and ener- 
getic. “ Hurry, David ! Let’s get that boat there, and 
” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


221 


David, carrying the basket that Emily had provided, hurried 
as best he could after Allison’s long legs. These thin and 
pipe-stem supports got over the ground like the strides of a 
stilt-walker, and he had reached the beach and was bargain- 
ing with a man for the hire of his boat, before David could 
possibly catch up to him. 

“ All right, David,” he said, as the negro, panting reached 
him, “ we can have it, till to-morrow morning. Put the 
basket there, and here — you row — I’m tired.” 

The wiry, nervous young fellow tossed the oars to David 
with an energy that scarcely seemed like fatigue, and then, 
seating himself on the edge of the stern-seat, said quickly, 
“ Oh ! hurry, David ! ” 

“ But, Mr. Allison,” said David hesitatingly, “ I don’ 
know whar I’m to go to, sah ! Please, Mister Allison, whar 
is I to go ? ” 

Fred looked all about him. To the east lay the rippling 
water, with islands in the distance ; near by were rocks and 
tangled vines, a hopeless labyrinth of beauty — a wizard’s 
puzzle beyond all solving. 

He felt helpless for just one moment, then, he said with 
eager gritting of white teeth on boyish lips unused to com- 
manding ; 

“ Go on, David, straight ahead ! The first good-sized 
hole you come to — go into it ! Maybe they have gone in 
there before us. Certain they were near here, or this — ” 
pressing Kate’s handkerchief to his lips — “ or this — would 
not have been found.” 

All the negro wanted was a master. He laughed in glad 
obedience to the order, and taking up the oars in brawny 
hands, shot the boat ahead through the water. 

“Go slowly, David !” said Fred with instinctive care — 
“ we may miss them.” 

“ Dere’s a place in hyar. Mister Allison — dat isn’t very 
big — but maybe — ” 

“The vines- are' broken, David !” said Allison eagerly, 
lifting aside a convolvulus branch ; “ See ! See ! ” 

David lifted up a huge arm and fist and tore away the 
growth of many days in a moment. “ Shall we go in, sah ?-” 
he asked. 


222 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“Yes,” said Allison, “ go in.” 

A scraping of the boat against rocky sides ; and then, 
they entered the same wide cavern Kate and Dr. Sin- 
clair had christened as the “ Mermaid’s Cave.” 

“ One minute, sah,” said David respectfully ; “ if we’s 
goin in far, sah, we must leave our landmarks, sah, so we 
kin get out again.” 

“ What’s that ? ” asked Fred. David backed water and 
pushed again out into the open beach. 

“ What’s that ! What’s that ? ” asked Allison hurriedly. 
“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Jess one second, sah,” said David handing him the oars, 
“ I’ll be right back, sah.” 

In emergencies of life it is curious how few explanations 
are needed. Fred took the oars, and waiting, felt, without 
knowledge, that the negro’s action had some good reason 
back of it. In a few minutes he stepped into the boat again, 
his arms filled with broken green-leafed branches. He laid 
them in the bottom of the boat, and silently took up the 
oars again. Once more he pushed in underneath the door- 
way of convolvulus; and once more they were within the 
large and spacious first cavern, that lay just beyond. 

Silently they looked about them, rowing here, rowing there. 

At last a cry from Allison echoed through the place. 
“ David ! David !” he cried, “ isn’t — isn’t that a new piece 
of burnt wood ? ” 

They bad come across the first discarded torch that Kate 
and Dr. Sinclair had left there. 

“ Yas; yas— Mister Allison,” said the negro tremblingly, 
“ it is, sah, it is ! ” 

They picked it up and looked at it, as if upon its charred 
and blackened edges might be inscribed the knowledge that 
they longed for. All it had to say, it said simply. Man 
has had us, used us, — left us — and that not long ago. And 
it would say nothing else, although longing eyes strained 
themselves in trying to make out more. 

“ David ! ” cried Allison at la.st, “ we will find them ! I 
am sure of it ! Oh, David ! ” 

“ Bress the Lord. Mister Allison,” replied David, “ bress 
deLordj” • - ■ . • 


STOLE AT AMERICA. 223 

^‘What are you doing, David ? ” asked Fred as the dar- 
key suddenly dropped his oars. 

“ I’se jess goin’ to leave a landmark hyar, sah,” said 
David, as he took up a green leafed branch and placed it 
firmly and carefully on a ledge upon the shore, “ so dat 
we’ll know, sah, when we comes back dis way again, dat 
we’s been hyar, sah, for if it wasn’t for dat, we wouldn’t 
know how to work our way back, p’raps. Dese yere holes 
in de sea am mighty lonesome places to git lost in. Mister 
Allison.” 

‘‘Ugh ! ” shuddered Allison, “ I should say so ! Good 
idea that, David, for although we have plenty of light, and 
look where we’re going, I suppose we could get lost in 
here, hey ? ” 

“ Dat we could, sah,” agreed David, shaking his head, 
“cause you see. Mister Allison, dat de places look so simi- 
lar and dere is so many ob ’em — see, sah ? ” 

“ I see,” answered Fred soberly, “ and that may be just 
what has been the trouble with Miss Kate and the Doctor. 
Oh, David, hurry, my boy ! Suppose they are in here, and 
have been here all this time ! ” 

“ Shall I go in dat way. Mister Allison ? It looks 
mighty low down like, and yet — yes. Mister Allison, de 
sides is scraped ! ” for now both David and Allison noticed, 
with keen and instant sight, the least sign of the presence 
of man before them. A slightly broken stalactite was 
enough to set their hearts to beating fast, and to renew their 
wavering courage. And here certainly, the sides of the 
narrow passageway was “scraped,” as David said. A few 
moments of steady rowing and guiding, and out they came 
into the second large and magnificent cavern, with the “ lec- 
ture ” platform, upon its broadest side. 

“Phew!” whistled Fred, “this is immense! What do 
they call this, David ?” 

“ I don’t know, sah ; I never was hyar afore, sah.” They 
rowed around and across it, and just as they neared the 
widest side again they espied the remains of a charred torch. 

“ David,"' cried Fred. 

“ Yes, sah ! ” cried David back again, both seeing at the 
^arne time thi? evidence of life gone before theni. 


224 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


Hold on, David ! ” and Allison jumped out of the boat 
near the very same spot that Kate and Dr. Sinclair had 
stood before him. 

“ David, they’ve been here,” he cried out exultingly. 

“Yes, sah ! ” said David, nodding his head, as if he never 
meant to stop. “ Yes, sah ! yes, sah ! ” 

“Hold the lantern over this way, David. No, give it to 
me. There — yes — yes — yes ; David ! I see marks as if 
they had walked here ! See ! see ! ” 

“ ’Scuse me, Mister Allison — ’scuse me, but mebbe, you 
know, — mebbe it mightn’t be dem.” 

“ Not them ! ” exclaimed Allison ; “ what are you talking 
about? Of course it is. Now see here, David, if you say 
that again I’ll choke you, do you hear? I know what I’m 
talking about,” went on the young fellow, carried away by 
his anxiety and excitement, “and if you dare say that again, 
well — I wont have it — that’s all. Do you hear ?” 

“ Yes, sah,” answered David humbly. 

Fred looked over the footmarks left upon the soft sand 
in places, and even walked up and over the lecture plat- 
form whereupon Dr. Sinclair had begun his “Stolen America,” 
but that told him no story, and except for the few indis- 
tinct markings on the coral sand on the edge of the cavern, 
nothing remained to show that others had gone before. 
He looked all about him at the white and glistening snowy 
sides of the great cavern, at the dark and deep water below 
them, and gazed into the shadowy depths beyond. Then 
he called out: 

“ Hello ! Hello ! Hello ! Oh, Kate ! Kate ! Doc- 
tor Sinclair ! Doctor Sinclair ! Kate ! Kate ! ” 

The echoes rippled back a mocking caricature of his 
longing, and that was all. After a little waiting, he got 
into the boat again and said : “Go on, David, there’s no 
use in waiting here.” 

“ Which way, sah ? ” asked David. “ I .sees dat dere is 
lots of ways, hyar, sah. And before we goes, lemme jess put 
up anoder landmark, sah. ’Twont do to go widout.” David 
fixed another green-leafed branch firmly in the rocks, just 
below the platform, and then waited, his hands on the oars, 
ready for his orders. 


STOLEN AMERICA 225 

Fred sighed desperately ; and then said : “ I don’t know', 

David ! What do you think ? ” 

“ Let de Lord guide us, Mister Allison,” answered the 
darkey devoutly, resting his oars a moment — “ let de good 
Lord guide us.” The tide slowly, very slowly drifted the 
boat in a certain direction. As they came near one of the 
many openings with which the cavern was honeycombed, 
the bow of the boat pointed in. 

“ Dis way, Mister Allison,” cried David devoutly, “ dis is 
de way ! ” 

And strangly enough it seemed as if Providence or Fate 
had guided or drifted them into the right channel, for again 
they saw signs that others had gone before them ; again 
they saw the marks, made only by human hands. The pas- 
sage was long and dark and narrow, but, as before, it led 
out into breadth and space beyond. This time into a grand 
and majestic hall, like the dome of some great cathedral. 
The light from their lantern failed to light up even a part 
of the dim and mysterious cavern before them. 

“ Mister Allison,” said David in awe-struck tones, “ we 
has got to be mighty keerful hyar.” 

“Yes, David,” answered Fred, peering into the shadowy 
distances around him; “yes, we have. Put another green- 
leafed branch right here where we have come out from, and 
put it in safe — do you hear?” 

“Yes, sah,” said David simply. After this was done, 
both sat quiet in the boat for a few moments without a 
word. 

“ David,” said Fred at last, “ do you know how to pray? ” 

“ Yes, sah,” said David reverently, “ shall I ask de Lord’s 
guidance ? ” 

“ I guess you’d better,” said Allison, nervously chewing 
his finger-nails, “ for I’m blest if I know which way to go.” 

The words sounded flippant, but the heart was not, and 
that ever speaks for itself and speaks truly. The negro 
felt the weakness of the white man, and recognized a com- 
mon need, a common danger. He clasped his hands 
together, shut his eyes, and said earnestly : “ O Lord ! 

God ob de Land and ob de Sea ! We are in ’stress and 
tribulation, help us ? We are only grains ob sand on de 


226 


STOLEN AMERICA 


shore — but we wants to lib Lordj we wants to lib. We 
hab lost two other grains of sand, and we want dem, Lord, 
we want dem ! Out ob de great Ocean of thy Eternity, 
send ’em back to us, O Lord ; wash ’em up on de shore ob 
dis world, if it please de lovin’ mercy of de Lamb. Amen — • 
Amen,” he finished, devoutly. 

“ Amen,” said Fred earnestly, not criticising prayer or 
preacher, only feeling that all had been done that could be 
done, and in some way vaguely strengthened for anything 
that might now happen. 

“ Come, David,” he said, “ let’s go on, row slowly.” 

The light from the lantern in their boat cast a bright 
globe of light about them, which threw the space outside its 
horizon into yet more somber shadow. 

“ I wish we had thought to bring half a dozen of these 
things,” said Fred, pointing to its bright glare, “ then w^e 
could see what we were doing.” 

On they rowed, silently. Then Fred called out with 
nervous, clairvoyant feeling : “ Kate ! Kate ? Where are 

you ? I am here ! Oh, Kate ? Kate ! ” 

The mocking echoes answered as l^efore with parrot-like 
reply. And yet — and yet, it seemed as if there was another 
sound beside that. Was there ? 

“ Kate ! Kate ! ” thrilled Allison’s young voice through 
the shadowy black cavern. 

Oh, Kate ! ” Surely, there was a blind murmur of 
sound beyond the echo. Surely — surely ! 

‘‘David, David! Did you hear that?” said Allison, 
clutching his hands. 

“Yas, sah,” said David. 

They held their breath, they stilled themselves into stone, 
but there came no sound to break their aching silence. 

“ Kate ! Kate ! — Oh, Kate ! ” cried Fred again in pierc- 
ing tones. “ Where are you ? ” 

This time beyond the echo — surely it came after it ! was 
the faint call, “ Here, Fred ! ” 

“ Did you hear anything, David ? or am I mad ? ” said 
Allison hoarsely. 

“ You heard it, Mister Allison, and so did I, praise de 
Lord, glory be to de Lamb? ” And the negro with uner- 


STOLEN- AMERICA, 


527 


ring instinct pulled in the direction of the feeble cry. On 
and on into the blackness .before them. 

“ Kate ! ” said Allison feebly, too excited, and too happy 
to call out strongly. 

“ Miss Kate ! dear Miss Kate ! ” rang out David’s voice 
like the heartening chime of a Christmas bell ; “ vve’s a- 
comin’ to you ! doan’ you fear, my chile, we’s a-comin’ ! ” 

“ David ! ” came back a faint whisper like the ghost of a 
cry, “ David ! ” 

A few more strckes — and suddenly, Fred cried out : 

“ I see them, David ! There they are, a boat or some- 
thing there. It is, it must be them. Isn’t it, David ? Oh, 
it is ? Oh — I don’t know. Yes, it is ! No — no — Yes — Yes 
— my God, what-has-happened-them ? ” 

For indeed upon their eager vision came a strange sight. 
Lying in the bottom of the boat was a man who looked like 
Dr. Sinclair, only his hair was snowy-white. Half sitting, 
with his head leaning against her, was a thin, transparent 
spirit of Kate — who stared straight ahead with startled 
eyes — that saw not. She bent over Dr. Sinclair’s head as 
he moaned, and said feebly : 

“ There — there, dear, do not worry. It can’t last long 
now. Yes, I know,” she whispered, as the light of Fred’s 
lantern flashed nearer to them, “ I know it seems as if they 
were coming — but they’re not. I’ve thought that before.” 

Every word came out weakly and slowly in a faint 
whisper, but like drops of molten metal on the hearts of 
those so near. 

“ Kate ! Oh, dear Kate ! We are here ! We have come ! 
We have found you ! Kate dear ! You are not dreaming 
now ! ” And the tears poured down Allison’s young face 
like rain, until he could scarcely see for their blinding. 
Kate’s wan face turned in the direction of his voice, and her 
thin hands went up to her eyes weakly ; but still she did 
not think the vision real. She bent again over Dr. Sin- 
clair, her head resting upon his. The helpless despair in 
every line of the thin weak figure cut Allison and David to 
the heart. 

Honey ! Honey ! ” cried out David brokenly, “ we is 


228 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


here to save you ! You’s not dreamin’, Miss Kate ! Dear 
Miss Kate ! Oh, Doctor Sinclair ! ” 

This time a dawning of the truth came upon her. Startled, 
uncertain, yet doubting, she turned again toward them, 
shielding her eyes from the light. 

“ David ! ” she said weakly. 

‘‘ Oh, Kate, dear Kate ! ” said Allison choking with tears 
at the wan, frail sight, “ it is us ! It is no dream ! ” 

“ No, Miss Kate, — we’s hyar,” said David lovingly, “ hab 
no more fear.” 

Their boat was alongside of them now, and they clutched 
the sides of theirs, gently but surely. Then at last, poor 
Kate seemed to know that this was no dream of the night, 
no wild fantasy of the darkness. With one glad cry, she 
held out her thin arms toward them, — a frail and haggard 
spectre of her old self — but yet Kate, alive ! alive ! 

“ Fred ! Fred ! ” she cried ; “ Oh, Fred.” 

“ Bet your life, Kate, it’s me,” answered Allison, fiercely 
wiping away his tears. “Just hold on a second, David, tie 
that rope there, that’s it ; and turn that lantern about so it 
don’t go in their eyes so. Oh, Kate ! to think that it is 
really you.” And Fred kissed her frail hands devoutly, 
with boyish reverence. 

Doctor Sinclair turned in the bottom of the boat at the 
sound of voices, and -sitting up, shielding involuntarily his 
poor eyes from the light, strove to make out what was the 
matter. “ His head,” whispered Kate faintly ; “ he has 
fever, I think.” 

“ Bless Emily ! ” said Allison suddenly. “ Quick, David, 
that basket there ! ” Out of it he took the precious bottle 
of water, and pouring some into a small glass held it to 
Kate’s parched lips. She drank it in as the dry earth does 
the life-giving shower. Then she said, with remorseful 
feebleness, “ How selfish of me !” pointing to the Doctor. 

“ Oh, there’s lots more,” said Fred gladly — “don’t fret 
yourself, Kate.” He held the water to the Doctor’s mouth, 
but the poor strained brain knew not that relief was at 
hand, and refused to drink. Fred poured a little into his 
mouth. The dried lips instinctively moved in gratefulness. 
Then a little more ; until, in a few moments, he swallowed 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


229 


mechanically. Then a little brandy was poured out, and 
given first to Kate and then to the Doctor ; then some of the 
milk that Emily’s wisdom had provided. Slowly, but surely, 
with a wisdom and carefulness very foreign to his usual 
self, Allison was gradually helping them back to life and 
strength. Doctor Sinclair seemed the weakest. Kate’s 
voice was a trifle stronger and her brains seemed as clear as 
ever. 

The Doctor moaned at times, and weakly whispered 
“Yes,” or “ No,” as he was questioned. He was yet in that 
state of mental and physical exhaustion, that realizes little 
of surroundings. Again, the small doses of milk or brandy 
were given them from time to time, Allison doling it out 
with cautious care, interspersing his ministerings with char- 
acteristic remarks from time to time. 

“ I read somewhere once,” he said, “ that in cases like 
this, you mustn’t give the patient a good square meal 
all at once. Wouldn’t do, you know. Might upset your 
digestion.” 

“ Oh. Have you got anything to eat ? ” asked Kate with 
hungry eyes, turning toward the basket. 

“ Of course we have,” answered Fred cheerily. “Blest 
if I know what to do,” he said hesitatingly, taking out a 
sandwich — “ Oh here, darn it ! eat it, Kate ! ” giving it into 
her frail fingers. But Kate bent over Dr. Sinclair and 
began breaking off little pieces and putting them into his 
mouth. “ Here now — stop that,” said Allison. “ I’ll feed 
him — you eat that yourself, Kate, dear Kate.” 

Kate smiled weakly but shook her head, and bit by bit 
coaxed the tiny pieces of food into Dr. Sinclair’s mouth. 
Then she held out her hand for her own. Fred handed it 
to her, and just sat and looked at her, as she slowly ate 
the frugal lunch. Every mouthful she swallowed seemed 
to give him a pleasure greater than anything he had ever 
known. 

After some time had gone by, and Kate seemed a little 
stronger, Allison said to David : “ Suppose we try to get out 
now, hey ? Think you can stand it, Kate ? ” 

“ Stand it ! ” echoed Kate. “ Oh, Fred !” bursting into 
weak tears of joy and gladness. 


230 


STOLEN AMERICA, 


“Very well, very well,” coughed Fred, huskily. “I just 
thought I’d see if you were ready, you know. Now, David, 
tie that carefully there — back of us, so ; there, that will do ; 
now go slowly till we find that green-leafed branch — do you 
hear?” 

“ I hears, sah ! I hears ! ” answered the negro, jubilantly. 
“ Praise de Lord, de lost am found, glory to de Lamb ! ” 

Slowly and carefully, the two boats made headway. It 
was a long time before they discovered the green branch of 
guidance ; in the meanwhile, they passed many openings, so 
like the one that they had come through, that if it had not 
been that there was no guide-post of green leaves, they 
would have taken the wrong way out many a time. 

Finally they reached it, however, standing out in sure 
and bold relief against the glistening whiteness of the sides. 
Again they stopped to administer milk and brandy to Kate 
and Dr. Sinclair, before proceeding through the long and 
narrow passage-way that led out into the other cave. 

The journey through it seemed endless, as their progress 
with the two boats was necessarily difficult in such close 
and narrow quarters. At last they came out into the wider 
space. Here David rested his oars, a little out of breath 
with his prolonged pull. While they were waiting, suddenly 
Dr. Sinclair raised up in the boat, sitting upright. 

“ What is it ? ” he asked feebly. 

Kate held his hand, and said soothingly : “ It is only 
Fred and I, dear.” 

“Fred ! Allison ! is that you ! My God ! ” his voice 
gaining strength in his excitement ; “ have you found us ? ” 

“ Dat we has, Doc Sinclair,” broke in David triumphantly ; 
“ we’s got you ! ” 

“ Oh, Kate, my darling ! ” cried the Doctor, overcome 
with sudden joy. “ My Kate ! My Kate ! ” 

Their arms were about each other, their hearts too full 
for words. Fred and David felt their throats choke in sym- 
pathy, but Fred managed to say with some of his usual impu- 
dence : “ I say, here, you two ! This aint the time for 
sweetmeats ! Just hold on there now, will you?” It was 
but momentary, their clasp of love and joy, for the Doctor 
again sank back, exhausted. Allison once more held water 


STOLEN AMERICA. 231 

to his lips. This time he swallowed it, gladly ; but pointed 
to Kate, as she had done for him before. 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said Allison ; “ don’t you fret. Doctor, I’m 
not forgetting Kate.” And once more the precious water 
was given to both. They remained in this cave for over an 
hour, alternating according to Dr. Sinclair now, with water 
and brandy and small quantities of food. For once more his 
brain seemed to be in its normal condition, and although 
weakened and exhausted by fasting and the terrible mental 
agony he had gone through, yet hope and joy were great 
revivers, and every moment now seemed to add life slowly 
but surely to their poor wearied and weakened frames. At 
last once again David took up the oars to go on yet further 
upon their way. Again the green branch of safety was 
consulted, and again, thanks to its guiding, they passed 
through the right channel. This brought them to the first 
large cavern, the “ Mermaid’s Cave.” Here the subdued 
glow of daylight, that came from the natural opening above, 
strained all their eyes, but especially Kate’s and Dr. Sin- 
clair’s. 

Upon consulting his watch, Allison found that it was 
nearly six o’clock. “ I tell you,” he exclaimed, “ You all 
wait here, and I’ll take this boat and go out, and see about 
getting a carriage for us, and then by that time the sun will 
be down, see ? ” 

“ A very good idea,” said the Doctor, his voice sounding 
more natural than it had yet done, although his wasted face 
and whitened hair made him seem even yet weirdly unlike 
himself. Kate had noticed the change by this time, but she 
only stroked his hair once gently, and smiled at him with 
love in her eyes. She did not even speak of it. It seemed 
nothing, after what they had suffered. 

Allison carried out his plan, placing David and the pre- 
cious hamper in the boat with Kate and Dr. Sinclair. 

“ Now, I suppose I can depend on you to stay here, till I 
get back ? ” he said, as he took up the oars in the other 
boat. “ No going on voyages of discovery, do you hear ? 
Oh, good-by ! I wont be long ! Bless you both ! Hi ! 
yi ! Hoop-la ! ” and the irrepressible boy shot away from 
them out toward the opening that led into daylight. 


STOLEN AAIEEICA. 


232 

It did not take him long to reach a landing-spot and tie 
the boat there safely ; then he ran, walked and jumped 
along over the road that led toward a house. Soon he made 
his errand known, and soon the kind-hearted inmates had 
hitched up their carriage and pair, eagerly placing it with- 
out question at his disposal. 

Soon they reached the fatal shore ; soon they came to the 
beautiful flower-hung entrance, that led into the labyrinth 
beyond. By this time the news had spread, until half a 
dozen boats were near the opening, ready to help and aid. 

Soon the lost ones were towed gently out, out into the 
quiet evening daylight, out once again into light and life. 

Gently and carefully they were helped by eager, willing 
hands into the carriage, and then driven slowly to the house 
not far away, wherein lived the owners of the carriage. 
Here kindly and hospitable hearts gave up rooms to both 
Kate and Dr. Sinclair, waiting on them with glad eagerness, 
as if they had been theif'very own. Fred left them to these 
same generous, hearts, and then borrowing their carriage, 
that they were only too willing for him to take, he and 
David faced toward the Princess Hotel, whipping up the 
horses, on and on, to the other anxious souls, that knew not 
yet of Kate’s recovery. 

When they reached Front Street, occasional acquaintances 
from the hotel were seen, on the sidewalks or pathways. 
Fred waved his hat over his head frantically, as they flew 
past them, and one and all seemed to feel what he meant, 
and hurried back toward the hotel, glad and excited, hoping 
that indeed the lost were found. 

As they dashed up the short slope to the Princess Hotel, 
Fred had his foot on the carriage-step and jumped out before 
the horses stopped. He sprang up the piazza steps and 
called out, “I say, everybody! Where’s Mr. Weston? 
Where’s Mrs. Weston ? ” And then dashed into the oflice 
and along the hall. 

“ Where’s Mr. Weston.” 

“ Upstairs, I think, Mr. Allison,” said Emily coming along. 
“Why — Oh 1 ” she cried, “ have you — have you — ” 

“ Yes, I have,” shouted Allison, putting his arm around 
her shoulders, “ I’ve found them ! ” Then he kissed her, 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


233 


and she, the modest, retiring, undemonstrative, quiet little 
English girl, she kissed him back again, and catching hold 
of his hand, hastened toward the stairway, crying excitedly : 
“ Oh, hurry, Fred, hurry ! Think how Mr. Weston feels ! ” 

They ran up the stairs like a couple of children, pell- 
mell, stumbling and hurrying, and finally rushed into Mr. 
Weston’s room, without once knocking. Mr. Weston was 
sitting at the window, his head on his hands, the haggard 
picture of woe and settled dispair. Mrs. Weston stood 
before the mirror having just- completed her afternoon toi- 
let, which she had arranged with a true artistic eye to just 
the exact shade of mournful becomingness. 

“ Mr. Weston ! ” gasped Fred, all out of breath. 

“ They’re found ! They’re found ! ” cried Emily and 
Fred, jumping up and down crying and laughing together. 

With one spring, Mr. Weston stood on his feet; then, the 
sudden rush of blood to his head made him stagger, and he 
would have fallen had not Allison caught him just in time. 

“ Steady, sir — don’t hurry,” he shouted. “ They’re all 
right ; don’t worry, sir.” 

Mrs. Weston shook the hands that Emily impulsively 
held out to her, and even returned the kiss that Emily’s 
full heart bestowed upon her. 

‘‘ Oh, what a relief ! ” she cried. “ Oh, I am so thankful 
that the dear child is found at last ! and she is well, you 
say, Emily ? Why, John, why don’t you say something ? 
You don’t seem half as glad as you ought to be. Sit there 
and never say one word ! But then a father never can 
enter into, a mother’s feelings. Where are they, Fred? 
At Walsingham ? At Mr. New’s? Why didn’t they come 
right back here ? Not able. Dear me ! Dear me ! I must 
go to my child at once. How fortunate it is that I am 
dressed, Emily, isn’t it? And so suitably dressed too — for 
the occasion, — not too much you know, but just right. 
Better go order a carriage, Fred, while I put on my bonnet. 
You’d better put on a fresh collar, hadn’t you, John !” 

“Fred,” said Mr. Weston, not replying to this, “is Kate 
well ? she is not hurt in any way ? Tell me, my boy, I can 
bear it now.” 

“ Hurt J not a bit of it,” answered Fred stoutly, “only 


234 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


they are hungry, you know, sir, and weak like. Couldn’t 
help that, being in that cave all this time you see.” And 
then he went on and gave a disjointed but graphic account 
of how he had found them. 

“ Can I go with you? ” asked Emily, as they prepared to 
go downstairs. 

“ Yes, child, yes,” said Mr. Weston feverishly ; “of 
course — of course. Get another carriage, Fred, or any- 
thing that is needful.” 

Three carriages finally left the Princess Hotel, bound for 
Mr. New’s house at Walsingham. One — Mr. New’s own 
private turnout — contained Mr. and Mrs. Weston ; the sec- 
ond, Fred and Emily ; the third, Colonel Martin and a phy- 
sician, who happened to be staying at the Princess Hotel. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A week' has passed since the finding of Kate and Dr. 
Sinclair ; and all goes on its accustomed way at the Prin- 
cess Hotel. And yet, not quite the same. Those few days 
of agony and suspense have altered the relations of all. 
Mr. Weston keeps near Kate most of the time, with loving 
eyes following her every movement, half afraid even yet that 
she may vanish from his sight and be lost to him forever 
more. Kate herself has changed, just how, it would be hard 
to define. Her voice is sweet, but it always was that — her 
face is full of spirit, but it ever was so, and her heart is full 
of kindly thoughts, but then that was always her way. 
What is it ? What is the added charm that is felt, like the 
ozone in the air, and yet cannot be seen ? 

“ Oh, Kate ! ” said Allison as they sat chatting together 
in the large drawing-room one morning, “ you are lovelier 
than ever, — do you know it ? ” 

“ Lovelier ? ” laughed Kate ; “ what a boy you are, Fred ! 
Why, if I didn’t know you better, I should think that you 
were trying to flatter me.” 

“ Flatter you ? I couldn’t,” answered Fred, laconically. 

V P^rfegtion needs no adjectives, hey, Allison ? ” said Dr, 


^ TOL EN A MERIC A . 235 

Sinclair, beaming with kindliness at the young fellow through 
his glasses. 

“ Perfection ! ” grinned Allison radiantly, ‘‘ Humph ! it’s 
easy seeing that you are far gone ! No, sir, Kate isn’t per- 
fect ; I hate that word — it sort of shuts a fellow out in the 
cold, and Kate never does that. But she just right, I tell 
you — and don’t you forget it.” 

“ 1 am not likely to, my boy,” answered Dr. Sinclair, look- 
ing at Kate as if she were indeed worthy of all love and 
worship. 

“ Do you know. Dr. Sinclair,” said Mrs. Weston, “ that 
I have come to the conclusion that I like your hair being 
white after all ? It makes you look so distinguished ! At 
first I thought that I really couldn’t accept you fora son-in- 
law on that account — for if you had grey hair, why it made 
me seem almost in my dotage, don’t you see? ’’she said 
with playful coquettishness, “ if my daughter was old enough 
to marry a white-haired man — why, what an old woman I 
must be ! But come to look at you — you don’t look very 
aged. Think it must be that your eyes are so large and 
brown, or something. But really it is quite a relief to me, 
dear Doctor ; for it would have grieved me greatly to have 
objected in any way to your and Kate’s affection for each 
other.” 

“ Thank you,” answered Dr. Sinclair, rather dryly ; “ I 
am pleased that you are satisfied, Mrs. Weston.’’ A man 
has to say the civil thing to his prospective mother in-law, no 
matter what his private opinion may be of her. 

Mr, Weston laughed as he ran his fingers through his own 
spare locks, and said : “ My son-in-law can’t look down on 
me because of my gray hairs, and call me the old man ; 
tint’s one consolation — hey, Kate? ” 

'Fhe sweet color in Kate’s face deepened a little, but she 
’ )()ked with glad love in her eyes from one to the other as 
:,ne answered; “ No, papa; you will be safe there.” 

Dr, Sinclair’s new relationship to Kate had been estab^ 
lished with very few words between him and her father. 
The two men were friends, and understood each other with-: 
out much speaking. The fact of their engagement was 
also known to the hotel at large very quickly, and many 


236 


STOLE iV AMERICA. 


were the congratulations that they were obliged to listen to 
from people in general. Count Saviotti had avoided Mr. 
Weston very carefully since their midnight interview, feeling 
that it would be safer for him to keep out of his way. On 
this particular morning, therefore, Mr. Weston was some- 
what surprised to see the Count coming in the doorway, Mrs. 
Gascoigne by his side, gesticulating and smiling with his 
accustomed suavity. “ Ah, Mees Weston ! " he exclaimed, as 
he coolly came forward, “ I have not had I’opportunite of 
congratulating you before, upon votre fiance. Dr. Sinclair ! 
Or, rather, I must congratulate you. Doctor, que vous avez 
le bonheur d’avoir such une estimable demoiselle. And as 
for you, Mees Weston, accept mes plus sinceres vishes pour 
votre happiness.” 

The Count bowed low, his beady eyes moving restlessly 
from one to the other. Mr. Weston’s right hand involun- 
tarily clinched. 

“ I trust. Miss Weston,” said Mrs. Gascoigne graciously, 
“that the good wishes of all your friends may be fully real- 
ized. As for you. Dr. Sinclair — ” here her voice broke just 
a trifle, but she bravely recovered herself, steadied it, and 
went on clearly — “ as for you — what shall I say to you ? 
Man ever has the best of it in this world, I think. You have 
won a woman’s heart ; do not, as so many men have done 
before you, value it any the less because you are s^ure 
of it.” 

Dr. Sinclair flushed a dark red, but, rising to his feet, he 
bowed in return and said : “ Thank you, Mrs. Gascoigne. 
I have indeed won a treasure which I humbly appreciate. 
Your word of warning perhaps was merited, but believe me, 
it -is utterly unneeded. No one can tell me as I know my- 
self, how I am indeed blest far beyond my deserts.” 

Mrs. Gascoigne gave him one glorious significant flash 
from her superb eyes, and then turning to Mrs. Weston she 
said easily, “ I have also come to bid you good-by, Mrs. 
Weston. I sail on the Orinoco to-day, you know. Fortun- 
ately Count Saviotti and several others of our little clique 
are leaving also, so I shall have company on board.” 

“ Mais OLii ! ” broke in the Count suavely, “ ees it not 
fortunate dat I have de honair to sail at de same time ? ” 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


237 

“ Fortunate for you — yes,” said Allison in a low aside, 
back of Mr. Weston’s chair. 

“ And you leave to-day, do you ?” said Mr. Weston, eye- 
ing him keenly. 

“ Mais OLii, Monsieur,” bowed the Count rather nervously, 
not lifting his eyes to Mr. Weston’s face, “oui — sur 1’ 
Orinoco." 

“ Humph ! ” said Mr. Weston after a moment’s reflection 
and hesitation, “ Guess it isn’t worth while.” 

“ Que dites-vous ? Vot zay you. Monsieur?” asked the 
Count politely. 

“ Oh, nothing ! replied Mr. Weston with ill-concealed 
disgust, “nothing. I was going to ask you if you didn’t 
have a photograph of yourself lying around loose somewhere 
that you could give us to remember you by.” The Count 
felt a nervous thrill of horror. “ But I guess I can do with- 
out it. I think I can remember you without that. I’ll try 
hard any way, and I’ve no doubt that I’ll succeed — that is, 
to a certain extent.” 

The Count bowed, too nervous and uneasy to venture a 
reply. 

“ And are you really going my dear Mrs. Gascoigne,” 
broke in Mrs. Weston gushingly. “ And when shall we ever 
meet again ? Wait a moment — here is one of my cards. Now 
do call and see us when you are in New York, wont you ? 
I am so charmed to have had the pleasure of meeting you. 
And you too. Count Saviotti — Ah ! ” archly “ when shall we 
see you again ? Now don’t do as so many pleasant acquaint- 
ances have done before — promise faithfully to keep up our 
delightful social intercourse, and then forget all about it, 
directly you are in other lands and climes. Oh, yes, Thave 
got one more card left. Count ; it is slightly soiled, but 
you will excuse that, will you not ? ” holding it out toward 
him. 

The Count had his finders outstretched to take it, when 
Mr. Weston quietly took it from her, saying calmly, “ Mother, 
I am surprised at you, offering Count Saviotti anything 
smirched like that. Excuse me. Count, but I really couldn’t 
permit you to accept it.” 

“ Certainement, certainement, Monsieur,” said the Count 


238 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


hurriedly. “ Pardon, Madame Weston, but I must to you 
zay adieu. It is necessaire dat I go to see after de baggage. 
Bon jour et adieu, Mesdames, Messieurs ! Adieu ! ” and 
with a final bow, Saviotti abruptly left the drawing-room, 
unable to stand and face Mr. Weston any longer. 

Mrs. Gascoinge glanced at his retreating figure, and then 
said graciously : “ Well, I must leave you also, 1 find. Oh, 

no, don’t trouble to come down to the wharf to see me off, 
my dear Mrs. Weston. Well, I’m sure it’s exceedingly kind 
of you,” as Mrs. Weston picked up her parsarol that was 
upon the piano, “ exceedingly kind of you.” 

“ Hold on, Mrs. Weston, till I get my hat, and I’ll go 
too,” said Allison. 

“ Good-by, Mr. Weston,” said Mrs. Gascoigne, looking 
rather wistfully into his rugged, kindly face. “ Wish me 
well — wont you?” she said, half pleadingly. 

“ I do, Mrs. Gascoigne,” said Mr. Weston, rising to his 
feet and shaking her hand cordially ; “ may all that is good 
be with you.” 

“ Thank you,” she said, gently. 

“ Good-by, Mrs. Gascoigne,” said Kate, holding out her 
hand, “ I hope you will have a pleasant trip going back.” 

To clasp Kate’s hand she could not ; so with instant 
womanly device, she exclaimed, stooping down suddenly to 
the floor, “ This is my glove, I believe ; I came very near 
leaving it, didn’t I ? ” 

“Good-by, Dr. Sinclair,” she said with just the least bit 
of a catch in her voice. 

“ Good-by ! ” he bowed, gravely. 

Neither held out their hand to the other, and yet each 
heart ached with regret. Regret that was not selfishness, 
but its better counterpart, remorse. Mrs. Gascoigne would 
have given much, as she stood there, to have had a heart as 
pure and unsullied as was Kate’s fair face. As for Dr. 
Sinclair, he humbly wondered if a life-long repentance for 
past follies could ever compensate for their spendthrift, 
reckless wreckage of what was good and worthy. He bowed 
again, low, gravely, and with respect. His face, his attitude, 
spoke plainly to the fair wom^n who knew him so well, and by 


STOLEN A ME TIC A. 239 

his regretful humbleness she was slightly comforted. ^‘Good- 
by ! ” she said once again. 

“ Good-by ! they all answered, and then, accompanied 
by Allison and Mrs. Weston, she passed out of the draw- 
ing-room, out of their sight and hearing, and out of their 
lives forever. 

“ Do you know, Sinclair,” said Mr. Weston after a few 
moments, “ that, for the life of me, I can’t help feeling 
sorry for that woman ? ” 

“ Sorry, papa ! ” exclaimed Kate. “ Why ?” 

“ That’s the absurd part of it,” said Mr. Weston, slapping 
one knee with his hand, “ I don’t know why ! She’s very 
beautiful, she has plenty of money, she has good health, 
she has everything one would think that a woman could 
want, and yet some way I feel sorry for her.” 

Perhaps if Mr. Weston had known some facts in the life 
of Mrs. Gascoinge, his pity would have been of a different 
sort. Had he known that this beautiful woman who had 
just left him would have willingly sacrificed his daughter 
Kate, to gain her own desires, stopping at no intrigue or 
crime to accomplish her purpose, it is probable that his 
judgment of her would have had little leaning toward the 
side of mercy ; for he was a downright nature, who had no 
sympathy with the selfishness of vice. It has its pathetic 
side, and most of us are weak enough to let the pity and the 
pathos of it blind us to its contemptible encroachment. 
But the clean-hearted and sane-minded are not so ; and if 
Mr. Weston had known the truth, Mrs. Gascoigne would 
have had no harsher judge, than the kindly, easy-going, 
charitable American. But, if the punishment of evil is 
the failure and non-fulfillment of its dearest desires, 
then surely Mrs. Gascoigne and Count Saviotti were pun- 
ished. 

“Well,” said Mr. Weston presently. “It’ll be our turn 
next, I suppose — you’ve engaged our rooms on the Trini- 
dad for next week, Sinclair 1 ” 

“ Yes,” answered the Doctor, “I attended to that the 
other day just after you spoke of it. It’s well to get 
your berths in time, for there’ll be a rush for home from 
nowon.” 


240 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


“Just to think,” said Kate musingly, “that only a little 
over three months ago and I had never seen yon ! ” 

“ Yes,” replied the Doctor, gently touching her slender 
fingers, “ and now I am so rich, — I have you, and — ” 

“ And the Coast Defenses, hey, Sinclair ? ” chuckled 
Mr. Weston. “ And do you really think you two, that you 
are going to accomplish anything ? ” 

“ Accomplish anything ? Now see here, papa,” said 
Kate going over to him and putting a slight hand either 
side of his bearded face, “ don’t you — dare — to — breathe — 
such — heresy — ever again. Why, we’ve begun already ! 
Here’s one good Bank that we have to draw on,” kissing 
him saucily, “ and here’s Dr. Richard Sinclair, the cele- 
brated Lecturer. Isn’t that pretty fair for a begin- 
ning?” 

“ A good deal can be done when one is in earnest,” said 
Dr. Sinclair emphatically, “and Kate and I are one in this 
matter, as you know, sir. With her back of me, to encour- 
age and inspire me, I do not see how we can fail. She will 
help me when I come to a standstill.” 

“ Oh, Kate’s got no head for business,” said Mr. Weston, 
eyeing them both with loving amusement. 

• “ Maybe not, sir,” replied the Doctor defiantly, “but she 
has got a heart for her country ! And, in my opinion, that 
is much more to the purpose. If I can only succeed in 
warming up some of my fellow-countrymen by the blaze 
that comes from her heart’s fire— that is all I ask.” 

“ Sinclair,” said Mr. Weston, getting up and giving him 
a good-natured slap on his shoulder, “ if you and Kate sing 
this same tune a year after your marriage — I’ll give you my 
check for $1,000,000.” 

“ Thank you ! ” said Dr. Sinclair, looking him squarely 
in the face, “ I accept it gladly. We will sing this same 
tune ; and I hope with such strength and beauty, that it 
will resound throughout our land. Resound, as the music 
that has long been vaguely haunting thousands of hearts, 
and that has at last burst out into the grand and glorious 
harmony of a National Athem ! ” 

“Hum!” said Mr, Weston, standing, his hands in his 


S7VLEN- AMERICA. 


241 


pockets, “ I hope so— perhaps it will ; that is, to a certain 
extent.” 

A week later, and upon the deck of the Trinidad was 
Mr. and Mrs. Weston, Kate, Dr. Sinclair and Allison. 
Colonel Martin stood on the gang-plank, wiping his*expan- 
sive forehead energetically with his fine linen handkerchief; 
standing up stiff and straight as became a soldier, striving 
not to show that his warm old heart was making it hard for 
him to talk cheerfully as of old. “ Don’t forget to let us 
hear from you, Mr. Weston,” he said stoutly, “ for we shall 
be anxious to know how you all stood the voyage.” 

Emily stood by holding one of Kate’s hands ; her sweet 
blue eyes already dimmed by tears she did not think of 
hiding. 

“ I say, Emily,” said Allison, “ I’ll see you in London 
next year. Oh ! you needn’t look so surprised. Your 
father’s given me his new address, and it’s quite likely I 
may call, as I have important business that will take me 
over that way about that time. Queer, isn’t it ? I .say, 
Emily — ” lowering his voice a little, give me that rose, 
will you ? ” 

Emily took out the fresh white rosebud from her belt and 
handed it to him. “ Thank you,” he said, for once not 
joking, “ thank you.” 

“ Good-by, Colonel,” said Mrs, Weston ; “ we shall always 
remember, with pleasure, you and your delightful Island !” 

“ Oh, Miss Kate, Miss Kate ! ” cried David, hurrying up 
the gang-plank, “ tank de Lord I done got here in time. 
Will you please accept dis wif my best respecs. Miss Kate ? ” 
handing her a small cedar box, beautifully carved. “ I’se 
sorrv I hasn’t got anything dat is fit for you. Miss 
Kate.” 

“ Oh, David ! ” she answered, the grateful tears filling 
her eyes, “ I shall prize this always — always.” 

The old darkey took off his hat, and bowed and bowed, 
his heart too full for words. 

“ All ashore ! ” shouted an officer ; “ All ashore ! ” 

One last clasping of hands, a few incoherent words of 
farewell, and friendly hearts are parted. Slowly the Trini- 


STOLEN AMERICA. 


dad drifted from the shore, slowly the faces of dear ones 
faded from sight. 

As the vessel made its way in and out among the danger- 
ous and picturesque bays and inlets, Kate and Dr. Sinclair 
stood side by side, happy and silent. When at last 
they r^ched the outskirts of the island, and only saw, 
looking backwards, the gray stone forts in the distance, 
Kate said softly, “ Good-by, dear old Bermuda ! May you 
be the only part of America that will ever be stolen ! ” 


THE END. 












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